


It's Been Far Too Long

by WickedSweetSalt



Category: Sherlock (TV), Star Trek: Into Darkness - Fandom
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending, I hate Admiral Marcus, John Watson was kidnapped by Mycroft and made a superhuman, M/M, Sherlock Holmes Is Khan Noonien Singh, Sherlock/Star Trek: Into Darkness Crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 06:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 45
Words: 31,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/975341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedSweetSalt/pseuds/WickedSweetSalt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes is dead. In his place is Khan Noonien Singh.<br/>After the Fall, Sherlock agreed to undergo the numerous operations required to turn oneself into something more. He took control of the 80 others who also underwent the operation and began taking over the world, convinced that he could do a better job of running it than anyone else.<br/>By the time that Khan controlled half the world, there was only one thing that could have convinced him to leave. A certain army doctor by the name of John Watson.<br/>~<br/>John Watson has been completely focused on survival since his best friend died. One day, three years after Sherlock's death, a familiar black car pulls up next to John. After yelling at the car and attempting to stare down a police blockade, John gets in and is promptly sedated by the syringe wielding Anthea.<br/>Khan Noonien Singh has agreed to take his crew and leave the planet in return for one thing. John Hamish Watson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Operation

**Author's Note:**

> I have been trying to write this crossover for a few weeks now, and I finally managed it this morning at 2 am. Please forgive any errors and enjoy! :D

It had been three years. John still couldn't walk past that place without seeing red all over the sidewalk.

Mycroft stopped trying to meet with him after the first year, when all John wanted to do was die, and only the constant, watchful eyes that Mycroft placed in his apartment stopped him from succeeding. “I promise you, there is a reason. You must be patient though.” he would say, just before he handed John another bottle of the drugs that dulled his wits and kept the beautiful-painful dreams away.

John never took them. He paid the price in lost sleep and pain and memories, so bright and strong that it hurt just to breath, but it was worth it a hundred times over, just to see him again, pretending for the barest moment that he could catch Sherlock, and they would go home and everything would be okay again.

John was never able to wake up before the end.

~~~

A black car pulled up next to John, driving slowly next to him as he hobbled down the street, leaning on his cane now more than he ever had, doing his very nest to ignore the car and the man inside it.

Eventually, John heard a soft sigh, the window rolled up, and the car drove away. John tried not to feel too happy.

Two blocks later, the police blocked off the entire street. There were men standing by their cars, and dogs.

“Fine. Fine!” John yelled, glaring at the black car as it slid up next to him, the door opening once again. John dropped down into the car, pulling to door closed behind him, scowling darkly at Mycroft.

“I had no choice.” Mycroft said as they rolled through the barrier, actually seeming a bit..ruffled. “I am terribly sorry for all this. You see, he’ll only bargain for you.” Mycroft said, actually sounding as if he really were sorry.

John had time to think that there was something wrong with this before he felt the needle enter his arm. He immediately twitched away from Anthea, unable to help the betrayed look that was on his face.

“He?” John struggled to ask, already hearing the slight slur in his voice as the drug spread through his system, making it hard to think.

“Who else? My dear little brother.” Mycroft sniffed, watching as John made a strangled sound and passed out, slumped against the seat of the car, his breathing slow and even. Only the small crease between his eyebrows betrayed the beginnings of what John Watson was feeling.

“To the hospital Anthea. Mr. Watson had an operation today.” he said, regretting that this small, broken man had been dragged into the battlefield once again, even as he took a photo, saving it for later, when Watson was ready.

“Yes Mr. Holmes.” Anthea said smoothly, already confirming the arrangements with a few precise clicks on the keys of her blackberry.

~~~

John never wakes up. Anthea organizes his operations, placing them one after the other, with barely any time to recover in between. John Watson will have more than enough time to heal his body while he is in stasis.

As the third shift of doctors filed out, leaving the nurses to clean up, Mycroft flipped open his phone, sending the photo that he had taken at the beginning of all this, adding a short message.

_Come and get him.  
-MH_

The reply is almost instantaneous.

_Where?  
-KNS_

Mycroft thought for a moment before he answered, deciding to choose a place that would remind his brother of the life that he had left behind.

_221B Baker Street. 3:00 tomorrow.  
-MH_

Mycroft looked down at the man before him, looking even smaller than usual as he lay on the operating table. He took one more photo, zooming in on John’s slack face before he walked away.  
There were many things that needed to be ready before tomorrow afternoon.

~~~

John went straight from the hospital to the stasis capsule, never even waking up from his sedation. Mycroft tucked a picture into his jacket pocket just before the capsule was sealed, remembering the ridiculous hat which Sherlock had been wearing at the time. It was almost enough to make him smile.

At one o’ clock, John was transported to the pick-up location.

At two forty-five, Mycroft walked in, standing in front of the capsule, purposefully blocking the view of John’s face from anyone who came in through the door.

At exactly three o’ clock, Mycroft looked over at the window as his brother burst in, uncaring of the glass that he broke.

Mycroft sighed. “Do you always have to make an entrance?” he asked, looking with disapproval at the glass spread out over the floor.

The man shrugged, stepping over the glass as he walked toward the capsule, a tiny smile appearing for the barest of instants on his face as he looked down at John.

“You changed him.” he said, turning toward Mycroft, the smile vanishing as he looked away from John.

“I said that I would. I keep my promises Sherlock.” Mycroft said smoothly, purposefully using the name that his brother had abandoned after his ‘fall.’

“I have told you many times, it’s Khan now.” Khan said sharply, advancing toward Mycroft, a murderous glower on his face.

“Does that name bring back too many memories? Very well, Khan.” Mycroft said, hiding his snigger beneath an indulgent look. “When do you plan to leave?” he asked, watching Khan carefully as he waited for a reply. This new version of his brother reacted in strange ways to seemingly innocent questions.

 _‘He always did that,’_ Mycroft amended mentally as Khan stalked toward him. _‘Now he just has the physical abilities and the manpower to back up whatever threats he issues.’_

“One week from now. I leave it to you to ensure the petty little countries that we are really leaving.” Khan said before he knocked twice on the table, summoning two of his followers, directing them with a glance to take the capsule.

“Goodbye Brother.” Khan said as he followed John’s capsule out the door.

Mycroft stayed in the flat for a long time after..Khan left, mulling over everything that he had said and done while he was here.

A little grin made it’s way onto Mycroft’s face as he remembered Khan’s reaction upon seeing John. Apparently that was one thing that hadn't changed.

Somehow, Mycroft doubted that it ever would.


	2. Stasis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Khan and his followers had off to find a new planet, but before that can happen, Sherlock has to decide whether to face John's fury over the incident at Saint Bartholomew's hospital now or later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was ridiculous to write. I was almost as indecisive as Khan was as to whether he should wake John up or not.  
> I've really enjoyed watching the hits and kudos build up and I hope that this chapter is as well received as the first one!  
> A big thank you to everyone who commented, left kudos, and subscribed.

Khan paced up and down next to the capsule, his hands held behind his back. A faint frown rested upon his lips as he tried to think around the fact that this was JOHN. His mind palace shimmered around him as he walked, trying to organize the emotion that he felt.

Should he wake John up?

It might be detrimental to his healing processes though, as John hadn’t fully recovered from the series of operations required to turn him into something more.

But if he waited longer, John might be mad.

He really didn't really need to know though...but John would probably find out eventually, whether from one of the crew or the fact that things would have changed juristically by the time that they had arrived at their new planet…wherever that was.

Khan kept pacing, completely absorbed by the puzzle that was emotion. How did people deal with this all the time?! It was nothing but a distraction, and it kept muddying up his thought processes. John seemed to be able to manage the stuff somehow, and keep a clear head at least some of the time.

Khan snarled, his pacing speeding up as he tried to vent his frustration somehow. 

After some more pacing and a very angry shower, Khan stepped out, calling in Laanii and Hedge, ordering them to take whoever they needed and finish attaching the stasis capsules to the floor of their ship tonight.

“Hedge, I want you to take him to the ship.” Khan said, gesturing at John’s capsule. Hedge moved closer, peering in through the window.

“Of course…but, who is he?” he asked curiously, never having seen the man before. He was short, and even in unconsciousness, the man seemed to radiate stunned disbelief. Perhaps it was the little crease between his eyebrows, or the set of his mouth. 

Khan thought for a moment before he answered. “My second in command. John Hamish Watson.” He said after a moment, watching as Hedge raised an eyebrow.

“I want to leave tomorrow morning.” Khan said, smirking as his orders caused Hedge’s eyes to widen.

“You couldn’t have chosen another day?” Hedge groaned, his mind making a list of all the things that needed to be completed before then and coordinating with Laanii, picking up John’s capsule, carefully carrying it out of the room and down to the recently created launch pad.

A ship waited there, filled with stasis capsules just like the one that Hedge and Laanii carried between them. All but thirteen of the capsules were already slotted into their positions, and most remained empty. Five out of seventy-three had chosen to sleep through the launch and whatever followed, wishing to only be awoken once their new planet had been found.

“Put him up by the Captain’s. As close as we can get.” Hedge said, lifting John Watson’s capsule higher as they moved through the cargo bay. If any of the other capsules were damaged, it could cause major problems later on. Nobody wanted to lose another crew member.

Laanii sighed as they locked the capsule into place, looking curiously in at its occupant before going to complete their work, recruiting several unoccupied crew members to help them.

Sherlock spent the night pacing around the compound, occasionally peeking out a window, watching as his crew hurried to prepare the ship. Khan felt a sense of...connection with these people that he had never felt with any other group.

Even with Mycroft and Lestrade there had always been a separation between them as everyone tried to accomplish their own goals. Here there was none of that separation. They all shared the same goal: safety, both for oneself and the others. And they all followed him, trusting in a way that reminded him of John.

Of course, safety was not always guaranteed. The first-and last-attack on their compound had proven that. Seven of his crew had died, and Khan had made sure to avenge them, leading his crew as they counter-attacked, carrying out his carefully designed scheme.

That day, seven countries suddenly lost their governments. Later that week seven countries were absorbed into the area that Khan controlled, taken as revenge for his deceased companions.

The remaining people quickly realized their mistake. They should have left Khan and his followers to their corner of the world and none of this would have happened. Mycroft Holmes was chosen as the negotiator on behalf of the remaining ‘free’ half of the world, both because of his skills and his knowledge about his little brother.

The Negotiations resembled their childhood arguments more than any sort of planned give and take. Mycroft demanded that Sherlock free that countries that he had taken. Khan demanded that his seven dead crewmembers be returned to him, and refused to answer to any other name but the one that he had chosen for himself.

Mycroft sighed, his eyes rolling up into the back of his head. ”What about your dear Dr. Watson?” he asked, creating a pause in Khan’s tirade.

“What about him?” Khan had asked, edging closer to Mycroft, as if that would get him closer to John as well.

“I could bring him to you.” Mycroft offered. Khan snorted.

“What’s to stop me from fetching him myself?” he asked, his mind already coming up with several members possible plans for John’s retrieval.

“Do you really think that I would allow that? Try and take him without my permission, and the Doctor will meet a rather abrupt end.” Mycroft said, leaning slightly on his umbrella.

Khan froze. “Don’t you dare.” He said, his baritone voice creating a rather intimidating effect. It would have worked on anyone but Mycroft.

“I do. I will change him, and give him to you in return for you and your crew leaving.” Mycroft offered, watching Khan as he spoke.

“Leaving? To where?” Khan asked, looking down at Mycroft, trying to decipher the offer.

“Find another planet and make it yours.” Mycroft said, scoffing at Khan’s confusion as if the answer were painfully obvious to him.

“You provide me with everything that myself and my crew will need, and we have a bargain.” Khan said.

“Fine. Your spaceship will arrive tomorrow. You leave within the week.” Mycroft said, tucking his umbrella into the crook of his elbow and he shook Khan’s hand.

True to Mycroft’s word, a ship did arrive the next day, complete with an instruction manual and 80 stasis capsules.

Khan tore them apart, making improvements and removing the tracking and listening devices from every inch of the ship, as well as each of the capsules.

His crew began to make modifications, mostly changing what they wanted to, but complying with Khan’s bigger plans for the ship. He had created a program to steer the ship out of dangerous areas (calibrating it for what was dangerous for them, if he did it for regular people, they would spend half their trip on detours alone) by the time John was ready. Mycroft was smart, making him come to the flat that he had once inhabited. It brought back all the memories of his and John’s adventures, making him feel content enough to have a chance at getting that back that he didn’t kill Mycroft or his silly little ‘security detail’ before he left.

The next morning, the ship was ready. Everyone except for Khan and Hedge were already in the beginning stages of stasis. They would enter the deeper stages slowly, to keep their bodies from rejecting the processes involved in completely shutting all but the most vital functions, and slowing even those considerably.

Khan strapped himself in, seeing Hedge doing the same beside him. “Why are you not in stasis?” Khan asked, not even looking over as he began takeoff, his body easily coping with the stress that was so taxing for humans going up into space.

“Because.” Hedge said, performing the checks that Khan didn’t. They weren’t necessary so why waste time and energy doing them. The ship would be fine. It was better than anything the little ‘scientists’ working under Mycroft could manage to build in another hundred years.

Soon the ship was moving freely through space. Khan activated the autopilot program that he had written, unbuckling himself and moving around a bit, getting accustomed to zero gravity. It was remarkably efficient. No energy was wasted fighting against gravity. Khan liked it.

As Hedge settled into his capsule, Khan floated over John’s holding himself steady by grabbing onto the edges of the window.

“It won’t seem like anything more than a moment for you. Goodnight John.” Sherlock said, maneuvering over into his capsule, closing his eyes as the lid closed over him, picturing John’s face as he fell into stasis.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Forty years into their journey, a small meteor shower knocked the scanning array lose.

On the one hundred and twelfth year, the array broke off completely, drifting next to the ship for a long time before floating away. The ship continued on its course, the program keeping the ship on a straight path through the stars until all power sources were gone.

The ship careened aimlessly through space for another one hundred and ninety three years before it was found by the USS Melvin as it moved through a distant section of space, seeking anything related to the destruction of the planet Vulcan. One Admiral Alexander Marcus was onboard at the time, having been sent out to enable the ship to immediately respond to any unidentified threats.


	3. Let's Make A Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The capsules are counted, analyzed, and Marcus takes advantage of the bodies that are offered to him to find out more about the humanoids in the capsules before he waked one of them up on purpose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost forgot to post this today. :P Please enjoy! *posts and hides*  
> OH! Also, I made a tiny change to the last chapter. There are not 80 capsules instead of 72. You don't need to re-read anything, it was just number. sooo yea~ *hides again*

Admiral Marcus walked among the tubes, a thoughtful expression on his face. Medical staff scanned each occupant’s face, seeking a match in any database. So far there had been none.

“Wake one of them up.” Marcus ordered, looking down at the brown haired man whose cryo-tube they were next to. He was wearing some sort of baggy clothing with a pattern of intertwining lines. It was different from the sensible skintight uniforms that the rest of the people in the capsules wore, and it was making Marcus curious. What was different about this man?

“This one sir?” the doctor asked, reaching for the control panel, stopping when a crash rang through the cargo chamber. Marcus and the doctor looked toward the noise, surprised to see a younger member of the medical staff sprawled on the floor by one of the capsules, which was hissing as it began bringing the person inside it out of stasis. The control screen flashed different notifications on screen as it released various gases into the chamber.

The man inside began to move, seeking to escape the chamber. “Get the lid off.” Marcus ordered, watching as the medical staff followed his orders, two working at the lid while another stood by with a scanner held at the ready.

As the lid came off, Marcus watched as the man inside leapt out of the tube, moving with a speed that was clearly more than human as he attacked the medical team, a series of punches to the neck ending them.

It was all done with a clinical precision that Marcus envied. He remained still and silent as the augment turned toward him, stumbling slightly as he fought against the dulling effects of the residual drugs left in his system from stasis.

“Who are you?!” the augment asked, squinting in Marcus’ direction, his fists flashing up as Marcus took a step toward him.

“I don’t think that it matters.” Marcus said smoothly, glancing over at the cryogenic stasis capsule, his attention caught by a small flashing warning. “You should have stayed still.” He murmured as the augment gasped, his heart slowing as the drugs in his system reached it, forcing it back into stasis. The only problem with that was that the rest of the augment was not going into stasis.

“Drugs. They cause so much more trouble than they’re worth.” The augment gasped as he stumbled back toward his tube, seeking the medication that would negate the last bits  
of the sedative.

He was coordinated despite everything, and Marcus stepped casually in the way, wondering how long this augmented humanoid would survive.

Marcus had counted to three hundred and twelve when the augment stilled. He only stayed still for a moment before exploding upward, crashing into Marcus as he tried one last time to get to the tube.

Marcus shot him in the gut with his phaser, regretting the loss of an accurate count as the augment collapsed back onto the floor with a guttural cry.

Marcus switched his phaser mode and shot the humanoid again, a tiny smile appearing on his face as the body slumped back onto the ground.

“Get another medical crew in here.” Marcus ordered into his communicator, watching as the bodies were carried away, those of the medical staff going to the incinerator while that of the augment went straight to medical bay, where it would be dissected and analyzed.

It was time to see exactly what he had stumbled upon.

Three days later, Marcus was sleeping in his rooms when a low ping alerted him that he had a message waiting for him. Grumbling, he rolled out of bed and walked across the floor to the interface screen, opening the file with an eager tap when he saw that it was the results from the augment’s dissection.

The results made him lean back, forcing his sleep-heavy mind to begin to think. There had been no reports sent back to Star Fleet about the ship they had found-it was not considered important enough at the time, and they had been too busy trying to figure out what to do with the capsules to send a report when they had found them.  
“Tell Captain Jones that I will see to it that Star Fleet gets a report on the capsules, and not to add it into her scheduled report.” He said, using the screen’s voice interface rather than type the message out. Marcus smiled as another ping told him that the captain had accepted his orders.

Marcus settled into a chair, leaning back as he typed, ordering that a large sum be re-allocated to a project directly under his jurisdiction. After a moment of thought, Marcus named his new project Vengeance.

Two weeks later, Marcus had a working knowledge of the augments capabilities, even though he wasn’t sure exactly how their mental abilities would change their fighting capabilities. The brains of the augment that had died, as well as the seven that had perished sometime during their flight had all been genius level at the very least but it remained to be seen whether their knowledge would be of help while they were fighting or if they would turn it in other directions.

Admiral Marcus walked among the capsules, looking at each face as he passed it. There was the small man that he had been about to order awake earlier, but he didn’t seem to be much of a warrior, let alone one that would be able to carry out his plans. His mental activity was low, but that could have simply have been a side effect of the stasis.

There was another that was a better choice. He seemed to create the very coldness that Marcus would need, unfettered by emotional bonds and other such compunctions.

In other words, he was perfect.

Marcus watched as a small man with no clear reason to be onboard, other than Marcus wanted him there began poking at the control panel, soon stumbling on the correct command sequence to bring the man out of stasis.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Khan Noonien Singh twitched, opening his eyes, a low groan escaping him as the light seemed to stab into his retinas, causing pain and hindering sight at the same moment.

_‘Where? Or perhaps more importantly-when?’_ Khan thought, opening his eyes, allowing only the tiniest sliver of light to reach his pupils. This time, his eyes adjusted, and Khan  
saw two men standing next to his capsule, one bent over the control panel.

Khan moved, blurringly fast, reaching forward and holding the man’s head steady while Khan snapped his neck. Now only he knew the codes necessary to cause the capsules to wake up the ones inside.

Khan looked up to see the other man-old, position of authority, used to combat, one daughter, but they don’t communicate often about anything but business,- pointing a strange little gun at him. It reflected light of the polished silver colored barrel.

_‘I must assume that it is deadly and act accordingly.’_ Khan thought, peering at the man for a moment before planting his hands on the edges of the capsule, easily supporting his entire weight as he wiggled out of the tube, dropping to the ground and lunging toward the man, crashing into his legs and taking the man down, hearing the strange little gun hit the ground seven feet away.

Khan stared down at the man, his mind palace abuzz as he analyzed the strange feeling in his muscles (simply a side effect from being in cryogenic sleep for so long), the man (calm, fascinated, clearly believes that he retains the upper hand), and his surroundings (white. Whitewhitewhitewhite).

“What leverage do you believe to have over me? My crew?” Khan asked, rolling his eyes at the man’s surprised reaction. “It was obvious.” He said smoothly, leaning down toward the man, watching the way his pupils contracted slightly to distract the man from his earlier slip of the tongue.

“I thought that you might like to know that my people will attempt to activate the waking cycles of the capsules in three hours. Unfortunately, they have the incorrect codes and each and every member of your crew will perish as their bodies are forced into wakefulness too quickly to adjust.” Marcus said smoothly, watching Khan’s face, trying to decipher the studiously blank expression that meant he was thinking almost too quickly for even him to keep up with, going through every possibility.

After a few tense moments, Khan let out a slow breath, getting off of the man. There were too many variables to know if the man was able to make good on his threat. For now, Khan would have to act as if he could, and adjust his plans accordingly.

“What do you want from me?” Khan asked, offering no help as the man stood up, straightening his uniform.

“I want you to create weapons for me, and in return I will keep my people from attempting to bring your crew back to life. My name is Admiral Marcus.” The black-and-grey haired man said as he stood, unconsciously straightening his uniform.

“Very well, Admiral.” Khan said smoothly, giving the man no sign of the plans that whirled through his mind.

Nobody threatened his crew and got away with it.


	4. Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Khan begins to plan his escape, and runs into one teensy little problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This spontaneous chapter update is dedicated to BornScreaming, whose amazing comments made me feel so authorly and happy that it was a piece of cake to write this chapter (Sorrry, Khan doesn't escape in this chapter, but he will for sure in the next one!).

Khan walked into the projection, wishing that he had been able to access this sort of technology when he would have been able to use it for something far better than simply creating weapons. It was such a predictable path for the Admiral to take, his dreams of a brutal, bloody conflict were easy to see for anyone that knew what to look for.

Perhaps that was the problem though. Nobody in this time thought that war was even a possibility. They could barely comprehend the idea of it, so they didn’t understand how some would seek out the endless conflict to sooth that ache for action.

Khan bit off an irritated noise as the Admiral himself walked into the room, causing the half-completed projection to fade away. Couldn’t the man see that he was _working??!_

John would have seen it. John would have known right away that this was something _important_ and would have done his best to be as unobtrusive as possible. Unlike this man, who strolled so casually into his rooms, seating himself on the couch that Khan had moved into the lab area for when he needed to truly think.

“John Harrison. Ex-Star Fleet commander gone rogue.” Marcus said, eying Khan with the fascination that one has for a caged tiger, so tragically aware of the claws and teeth, and yet still believing in the power of the cage to keep the wildcat away.

It just so happened that the Admiral had a very effective cage. And a rather large area of empty space around it. And his crew. Khan fought against his urge to crush the man’s skull for that. He was reasonably certain that it was possible. He was much stronger than Marcus could ever hope to be, and faster, and just better all around. But the man had his crew.

It was an infinite loop. One that Khan fully intended to sever as soon as he had a way to ensure the safety of his people. Especially one person. One little silly, jumper-clad man especially.

“Or I could just kill all of them right now.” Marcus sighs from the couch, apparently having realized that Khan hasn’t been listening to a word that he had said. A little smile dances across Marcus’ face as Khan lets the full weight of his gaze rest on the man. Khan is not surprised at all when the _Admiral_ isn’t cowed in the least.

“What would that gain you?” Khan asked smoothly, giving into the urge to roll his eyes a little as he took a few steps toward Marcus.

“Your attention, for one thing.” Marcus says dryly, and Khan turns away after analyzing Marcus’ body language, secure in the knowledge that Marcus does not intend to harm them at the moment.

However, Khan makes sure to listen to the man’s words, recording them for future reference as he thinks about the problem that he has found himself in.

“I will need to assemble the torpedoes myself.” Khan says after a few minutes of listening to the Admiral’s monologue. “The work is too delicate to trust to anyone else.” He added as the Admiral opened his mouth to ask why he would need to do that.

After a few moments of thought, the Admiral nods. “I expect work to begin tomorrow. I want a working prototype in a week.” Marcus said as he stood, pausing when Khan snorted.

“I can have a completed design and five done in a week.” Khan said, uncaring if he seemed arrogant to the Admiral. It would not be remiss to conceal his true character, at least for the moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Four days later, Khan finished his third torpedo. A small circuit chip would ensure that the torpedo failed to detonate. He had made the design more complicated than it necessarily needed to be to conceal the presence of the one superfluous chip in the design.

As Khan began to assemble the next weapon, taking care to appear to be focusing intently on the relatively simple process, Marcus walked in, a smug look on his face.  
“Did you know that a starship specifically for battle had never been made by the Federation? Before now that is.” Marcus said, stopping at the edge of the table, looking at Khan with something like triumph gleaming in his eyes.

“You took my designs.” Khan said flatly, remembering the project that he had created to keep himself from getting bored as he waited for an opportunity to strike.  
“I changed them too. But the USS Vengeance is all your design on the inside.” Marcus agreed, dropping a small drive on the table. “As a reward.” He explained, glancing at the torpedo that Khan was assembling before walking toward the door, stopping just short of it.

“I like to think that we can create a partnership that will let both of us get what we want.” Marcus said just before he left, the doors closing behind him with a quiet swoosh.  
Khan picked up the drive and threw it against the wall, disappointed when it didn’t shatter into a million tiny little pieces and simply bounced off the wall, sliding across the smooth floor to stop near his feet.

Almost against his will, Khan found himself loading the contents of the drive onto the tablet that he had been given, losing himself in the plans of the USS Vengeance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Six days later, the first torpedoes failed, bumping into their targets with an anticlimactic _thud._ Marcus closed his eyes, turning and leaving the room, disgusted with the poor performance.

He had been promised a _weapon_ not some little toy that didn’t even explode properly. Not that anything could truly explode in space, but it was the principle.

Khan tracked the problem to the fuel cell, claiming that it interfered with the circuitry designed to detonate the bomb. Since none of the weapons and circuitry experts could find another problem (not that most of them really understood the plans) Marcus ordered that he place shields around the fuel cells after Khan spent sixteen hours staring at one of the prototypes, apparently in deep thought.

What Marcus didn’t know was the subject of Khan’s thoughts. Instead of fixing the ‘problem,’- Khan was focusing on a way to escape his cell and make his way to his crew while remaining undetected. There were four ventilation shafts in the lab, and two more in the room that he was meant to sleep in. However, they appeared to have some sort of grating a few feet down the shaft, recently added according to the fresh welding marks where the grate fused with the edge of the shaft.

There were no windows, so that left only one option. The Door. The door that would only open in Marcus was close to it. The door that wouldn’t open if he tried to leave.

Khan lifted his hands, resting them just underneath his chin, adopting the prayer-like position that he still used whenever he was solving a particularly interesting problem.


	5. Execution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Escape!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must apologize for the delay in posting this chapter. I was (and am) battling a huge and extremely frustrating case of writers block. I sat down this morning, turned on some music, and decided not to move until I had completed the chapter.  
> I hope that this one is as good as the others have been for you guys!  
> Cheers!

Khan slipped through the ship, listening intently for any voices. Whenever he heard someone, Khan would pause, before either taking another route or waiting in a shadowed corner until the crew member had passed by, always making sure to head in the same general direction.

A small, proud smile played across his features as he moved through the ship. The plans that Marcus had given him for the USS Vengeance had proven to be extremely useful. They provided a useful insight into the layout of the average Star Fleet ship, allowing him to navigate around the USS Melvin (what a ridiculous name) with a good idea of where his crew would be kept.

The room had been tricky to escape, Khan had been forced to wait until he had convinced that Admiral that he was well and truly under control, as well as building enough weapons that Marcus had been forced to acknowledge that he was better than anything that this world could produce at creating devices to kill and maim.

Khan paused, forcing a door open. According to the layout of the ship, the cargo hold should be somewhere close. A large, darkened room greeted him. Khan smiled as he saw the capsules that held his crew, all lined up in neat little rows. He moved quietly down the rows, creating a list of the crew members that were still here, purposefully not allowing thoughts of those that were missing to appear.

Khan grew more anxious as he neared the end of the last row. Where was John? If he wasn’t here, where was he? Then Khan saw him, sighing a bit as he rushed forward, peering through the glass at the slack face of his blogger.

“John.” Khan sighed, touching his forehead to the cool glass, wishing that he could be sure that they would have the time to talk about this later, preferably while not being shot at.

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly, his head jerking up as he heard a low hum coming from the bottom of the ship. The power terminal. Lights began flickering on as Khan thought furiously, trying to calculate odds. If they had gotten the power on, it was only a matter of time before they discovered that he wasn’t in his quarters. From there, is was only a matter of them telling the ship’s computer to find him.

Khan snarled his sheer frustration as he ran, looking for a maintenance panel. He could make it so that they would have to search for him manually, but there was nothing that he could do about the face that the power to the ship had been recovered.

Khan tore off the cover, placing a small disruptor in among the wires. It would keep the system busy with nonsense, allowing him to move as he pleased for a short time.  
Khan went to work, assembling torpedoes around each of his crew, cursing the resilience of modern technology. He didn’t have enough data to predict how long his disruptive   
measures would hold.

In the end, they held just long enough.

Khan took a deep breath in, moving through the weapons that he had created, arming them. It was all he could do to protect his crew. It hurt like knives in his chest.

“I’m so sorry.” Khan said to the hanger, his eyes lingering on one newly-made torpedo in particular before he vanished, running full tilt through the ship, heading toward the escape pods, ignoring the alarms as a plan formed in his head. 

It was too late to attempt to get to Marcus today, the entire ship was aware of his presence, and a short death was simply too kind. It would also alert Star Fleet of his vengeance, and allow them time to prepare. No. As much as it burned him, the Admiral would live to see another day.

He may not have been able to protect anyone, but Khan would avenge them. He had everything he needed already.

Strength, intellect, and a newly minted lack of mercy, courtesy of one Admiral Marcus of Star Fleet.

Khan climbed into the tiny pod, pressing a variety of buttons before he managed to free it from the ship. The controls were simple, as long as he ignored everything but the steering mechanism.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Marcus asked, his head appearing in the air to Khan’s right.

“I fear for the future of humanity if your deductive skills are this useless.” Khan said, staring into the screen, engraving the face before him into every wall of his mind palace, projecting it onto every surface, imagining how the man would scream as his skull was crushed.

It was enough, for now.

“We could just shoot you down.” Marcus pointed out, and a red light began flashing as the USS Melvin locked onto his little ship. “All it would take is one round.” Marcus said quietly.

“And you’ll have lost the best weapon you’ll ever get your hands on. You must have realized what I’ve done.” Khan said, unimpressed with the man’s threats. Marcus laughed.

“Well played Khan.” He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “You can go for now, but I’ll find you again.” He assured Khan.

“Catch. You. Later.” Khan said, ending the communication with the press of a button.

Khan sat back, watching space fly by for a while before the computer interrupted him, asking for a destination. This made Khan pause. He knew nothing about the _universe._ If he ever had, it had been deleted. No point in cluttering up his head with information that had been unnecessary at the time.

What was the planet’s name? A swift search came up with nothing. “Take me to..London.” Khan said after a moment, assuming that London would still exist.

A short beep from the computer a moment later confirmed that it did and the pod turned toward its new destination, picking up speed.

Khan spent the flight learning about the solar system. John would have been ecstatic.


	6. New London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Khan acclimates to the London of the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so, so, so sorry for the delay everyone. I've been working a lot of extra hours lately so I can take more classes this semester and I've had to put my story on the back burner.  
> By here we are! I will have a little spare time this week, so I should be able to post another chapter up soon....hopefully.

London had changed. The buildings were taller, and made of some sort of glass like substance that reflected light in various colours and seemed to be much stronger than regular glass. Everywhere Khan looked, he saw people wearing the same triangle-like insignia that Marcus had been so proud of. _Starfleet_ seemed to be everywhere.

There were clothing stores dedicated to clothes, many of them made of the same material that the Star Fleet uniforms were made of. People wearing the Star Fleet uniform were   
often afforded special courtesies, and many government buildings worked closely with Star Fleet.

The Kelvin Memorial Archive was one of these buildings, one where Khan was sat for hours, researching Star Fleet protocols and getting ready to launch his rescue mission. The Archive was filled with mission logs, ship schematics, as well as several stations dedicated completely to looking up Star Fleet Protocols and cases that had involved them, all of which Khan researched, spending all day at the Archive, reading at a furious pace, aided by the enhancements to his body.

After adding a new room to his mind palace to accommodate the new information, Khan was ready to make his move. There were several protocols that dictated the actions of Star Fleet members in emergency situations, most having to do with the movement of resources, but there was one that was very helpful. It detailed the exact location where senior officers-such as Admiral Marcus-would gather in the event of an attack on Earth against a building where Star Fleet completed any sort of work that was kept from the public.

A count of the people coming and leaving quickly confirmed that such work was being completed at the Kelvin Memorial Archive. _‘Stupid place to do it. A building where anyone can come in and watch the comings and goings of Star Fleet officers is always going to be a liability.’_ Khan thought, a little smile on his lips as he left the Archive for the last time. It was time to gather some funds.

Even two hundred and some years in the future, gambling was still a popular pastime among the lower classes. Khan quickly found one of the dens where such activity was accepted, using the skills that he had gained long ago and borrowing from a dealer to get himself started, moving from table to table throughout the night, foregoing rest in favor of gaining a decent amount of credit to furnish himself with a flat and some basic scientific supplies.

Khan relished the opportunity to play with his new scientific toys, and was constantly needing to bring his focus back onto the task at hand, filing away plans for experiment upon experiment in his mind palace. They would have to be completed at a later time, when he wasn’t already busy.

It was an undetermined amount of time later when Khan judged himself ready to begin the first phase of his plan. He had observed one rather idiotic looking man frequenting the Archive. He was clearly distressed, spending long hours at work to avoid the looming death of a close family member at home. Khan’s research with his blood had confirmed its ability to heal, it was even able to bring small animals back to life, even though it only worked about a fifth of the time.

A part of Khan was curious to see if it would work on a human corpse, but there was no time to find one of those, and it wouldn’t help John at all. _Unless John is dead,_ whispered a traitorous part of Khan’s mind, one that spent an obscene amount of time categorizing and analyzing John’s every motion and thinking about him when he wasn’t there.

_If he isn’t alive, then my blood will not help him. I’ll kill them first._ Khan decided, satisfied with his plan to exact revenge for John’s death upon those whom had caused it. Perhaps even those that had done nothing to stop it. Perhaps he would punish this entire society for creating the man that had snuffed out his John, ruling them in his name.

But no. There was no way that **his** blogger would approve of such extreme measures, especially if it was Khan committing the deeds to force an entire quadrant of the galaxy to its knees.

“Focus.” Khan reprimanded himself. “He most likely still lives. I shielded them all.” Khan reminded himself, his jaw tensing slightly as he remembered the quick death that he had used to protect John and his crew. If they could not live freely, the best he could do for them was make sure that they were not subjected to experiment after experiment or used to control him.

There was only one man that could be used against him that way. The rest…it would hurt to watch them die. The years working together had created a bond of sorts between Khan and his crew, but he would do it in order to stay unencumbered and be able to save John.

John was the most important one out of them all. Of that, there was no question.


	7. The Idiot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Khan chooses his target.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter this time. I couldn't make it work when I tried to continue. :P

“If he had a name from our time, it would be Mickey. Something generic as a surname. Smith perhaps, or Tyler.” Khan murmured to himself as he watched the man leave the archive and wave his hand in the air, summoning one of the smaller vehicles that were controlled by some sort of artificial intelligence.

Khan stood straighter, focusing in on the Idiot’s lips, paying special attention to ensure that he read the new words correctly. It was difficult to tell what a word that he was unfamiliar with meant without the proper knowledge base that living in this time would provide someone. Anyone else would have been struggling to acclimate, taking as long as several months to fit in.

However Khan, making use of his vast intelligence and deductive skills, was already fitting in, even though he had been in this time for only five days. ‘John will have a much harder time adjusting.’ He thought, a little smile appearing on his face as he thought of the shocked look that was likely to plaster itself all over John’s face when he learned that the people of the future seemed to have overcome the near-dependence on tea that John and many of the people in the London of 200 years ago seemed to have joyfully accepted.

_‘Time for that later.’_ Khan thought, continuing his easy stroll down the sidewalk, not bothering to glance at the vehicle that held Mickey the Idiot as it hummed away, no doubt headed for the man’s home. He would follow in due time.


	8. Blackmail

There was a daughter. Every day that Mickey had off, he took his wife and went to a hospital of sorts. It was little more than a holding tank for those who were too dependent on the doctors and nurses to ever be able to live at home, or for those whose families sent them there to be taken care of by someone else, someone who was no them.

That didn’t matter though. The little girl in the coma did. She was fading fast, her brain activity slowly lowering, her heartbeat slowing. She would die soon. It was perfect.

Khan followed Mickey and his wife to the hospital, walking past their room, observing the attachment on their faces as they stared down at their young daughter. They knew that she would die soon without help, and it was tearing them apart inside.  
Khan slipped back out of the hospital, moving into the woods that had been planted there by someone trying to create an atmosphere of naturalness around this place that was so opposite of natural.

He was there when Mickey stepped out for a breath of air, no doubt wondering what he would do when his only daughter, his _child_ died.

“I can save her.” Khan said, slipping up behind the man, moving effortlessly on the balls of his feet.

It really was too easy. The quick turn, the instant appearance of hope. “Who are you?” Mickey asked, looking Khan up and down, as if he would have been stupid enough to wear a name tag.

My name is: Khan, and I am an escaped fugitive. Please, do take me to see your lovely Admiral.

Not likely. “A concerned party. I can _save her_. All I need from for her life is for you to run a little errand.” Khan said again, watching Mickey’s eyes narrow. At least the man wasn’t all stupid.

“How? The Doctors, they all said that there is nothing more to do. Either she wakes up, or she won’t. My baby…” Mickey said, trailing off before he could begin raging in earnest.

“Leave that to me. I guarantee that you will be able to see her vitals increase before you go on my errand.” Khan said, watching as the man took a deep breath in, clenching his fists before he abruptly relaxed. “Explain this..errand to me.” He agreed softly.

Khan smirked, walking toward the man, putting one hand on his shoulder in an effort to convey friendship, even camaraderie. “All you need to do is go into the facilities underneath the Kelvin Memorial Archive and drop a ring that I will give you into a glass of water.” He said, satisfied with the simplicity if his plan. The less complicated a plan was, the less likely that any errors would be made by the different components. Like Mickey, who was thinking quickly, his brow scrunching up as he thought.

“When?” he asked suddenly, the creases in his brow smoothing out.

“When what? Be more specific.” Khan ordered, almost giving into the temptation to roll his eyes.

Mickey paused for a moment. “When do I go in with the ring?” he asked, rephrasing the earlier outburst.

“I don’t care, but the sooner that you choose a day, the sooner that your daughter will get her life back.” Khan said, knowing that that would motivate this man more than any threats that he could have made. Mickey nodded. “Tomorrow.” He said, and Khan smiled once, a subtly cold thing before he moved quickly, slipping back into the hospital and out right through the front doors.

That night, Khan extracted some of his blood, straining out all the particles that would not help the girl and concentrating the mixture, putting the resulting liquid into a vial along with a very special ring. It had taken most of his credits to obtain, and was extremely explosive when it touched water, but otherwise stable. Khan had been forced to vary a bit from his plan and perform one experiment, or rather a series of small experiments, shaving off miniscule amounts and dropping them in different liquids, observing how that changed the explosion.

But come morning, Khan was ready, running to the hospital and slipping through the halls, placing his package on the table where his pawn had fallen asleep with his wife, making sure that the idiot would see it when he woke up.

He may have also turned down the settings in the room, creating a colder climate to drag the man out of sleep that much quicker, but that was inconsequential.


	9. The Kelvin Memorial Archive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparations are almost complete for the Plan, and the Archive...well. It served its purpose.

It was cold. That was the first thing that Michael noticed when he woke up. He looked over at his daughter, concerned that it would be too cold for her, but she appeared to be fine.

Unchanged, as always.

Michael stood up, covering his Jenna with the blanket, looking down at her for a moment before he walked toward his daughter, blinking at the silver case that sat on the bedside table. _That was fast._ He thought, picking it up and weighing the case in his hand, pushing the lid open with his thumb, staring down at the contents for a moment before a grim half-smile appeared on his face.

He wasn’t an idiot. Whatever was in this case was serious. Maybe electro-magnetic charge generator, or some sort of hacking device. He would probably be taken to court for ‘betraying’ Star Fleet, or worse. But it would all be worth it in the end.

Or so Michael thought as he added the red liquid to the solution keeping his daughter’s brain from completely shutting down. All that it could do was stop the decline, and give her time to heal.

This was different. Within moments the blood-like liquid had done its job. His little girl was going to be okay again.  
Michael nodded to himself, sliding the ring onto his hand, noting with some amusement that it carried the Star Fleet logo as he walked out the door, pausing for one last look back at his family before he went to prison.

~~~~~~~~~ 

Michael walked out of the cab outside of the Archive, rolling his shoulders a little in an effort to loosen them up.  
He glanced to the left, blinking when he saw the dark-haired man that he had made a deal with. The man was watching him. _Does he even blink?_ Michael thought wryly, shaking his head and walking into the building, going straight toward the elevator, leaning forward and presenting his eye to the bio-scanner, not blinking through long practice.

Ten minutes, a search through the Star Fleet personnel database, a message to Admiral Marcus identifying Captain John Harrison as the man that had blackmailed him, and a glass of water later, the Kelvin Memorial Archive exploded, much like the ship that was its namesake.

Khan ignored the sound of screams as he moved through the wreckage, taking what technology he needed, putting it in a pair of black bags and loading them into a small ship that was in the archive.

By the time that emergency services arrived, Sherlock Holmes, known by history as Khan Noonien Singh and by this time as John Harrison was gone.


	10. Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Khan gets bored waiting for Star Fleet to hurry and gather.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was awful to write. Hopefully the next one flows better. >.

It took far too long for the members of Star Fleet to gather. Khan spent the time while he waited for them picking through the things that he had stolen, taking apart some pieces and attaching them to others or simply throwing   
them away of they were useless to him.

When he was done, the ship that he planned to use to take out Star Fleet command was working better than it ever had, and the seat had been redesigned to resist impact from any direction and there were still several hours before Star Fleet would be able to gather.

“They’re too _slow.” _Khan groaned to the empty room, half expecting John to poke his head around the corner and tell him to be patient and say that the world didn’t revolve around him.__

__It should._ _

__Why didn’t it?__

 _ _~~~__

 _ _By the time that Star Fleet had finally managed to gather, Khan could have decimated all of London. Not that he was going to expend that much effort when it gained him nothing, but didn’t anyone understand that time was of the essence in an emergency?_ _

__Apparently not, because the officers spent several minutes talking before proceeding into the meeting room and beginning to bring everyone up to speed. (was it that hard? He had kept in better contact with his homeless network three hundred years ago with a quarter of the technology)._ _

__As Marcus took command of the meeting Khan took several deep breaths in. reminding himself that bursting into the room and killing him **right now** would ruin the entire plan._ _

__So he waited._ _

__And waited._ _

___And waited._ _ _


	11. Marcus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus' reaction to the explosion at the Kelvin Memorial Archive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now have the plot pretty much settled for the next few chapters, so updates should be a little quicker since I don't have to wait for my brain to tell me what to do next. :]

Admiral Marcus was on his way back from a meeting when he got the news.

The Kelvin Memorial Archive had been attacked.

There was a message from a Lieutenant Michael Smith claiming that **Captain John Harrison** had forced him to blow up the Archive.

_“Shit.”_ Marcus cursed softly, walking quickly to his car, blacking out the windows and pulling a tablet from a pocket, quickly logging into the Star Fleet database and going over the reports from the attack.

The Archive had been completely destroyed. Messages had already been sent to the ships in this sector, and they were on their way back.

There was no way to stop the Threat Meeting, but perhaps there was a way to use this to his advantage. He already had two formidable weapons courtesy of Khan, perhaps now Khan could be the catalyst to start the war.

Marcus nodded to himself, a grim caricature of a smile forming on his face as he began working, going into Harrison’s files and creating evidence of espionage.

“Bad, bad Captain Harrison. Been giving all sorts of information to the Klingons.” Marcus said, clicking his tongue in mock reproach as he continued to change Harrison’s communication records.


	12. Everybody Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Khan attacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little explanation regarding Pike may be in order.  
> At the end of the first movie, he was in a wheelchair.  
> In the second movie, he ran across the room before getting shot (at least according to my memory).  
> So I say that he had some regenerative treatments to allow him to walk again, but at the time of his death, they were only partially complete, so he isn't really able to walk that well.
> 
> I would also like to thank everyone for the comments I've been getting and 107602 for helping me figure out when to post the chapters that I wrote last night~ [I'm nearly three chapters ahead now, including this one]

It was time. Finally.

Khan lifted the ship out of concealment, flicking the landing lights on as he rose smoothly up the side of the building.

The area around the War room was dead space, no signals escaped the area around the building, making it easy for Khan to slip underneath the web of security around the perimeter since any signal his little ship put out was actively suppressed by the security system.

It felt…nice to use Marcus’ own protection against him.

Satisfying.

Even more satisfying was the little vibration of his ship as he began to shoot, killing many, but never managing to hit the man that he wanted to kill above all others.

Because as soon as Khan began to shoot, Marcus ran from the room.

“Where are you going??” Khan snarled, aiming a few shots at the doorway that Marcus had gone through before realizing it was useless.

So he took out his anger on the others.

Shooting them down, one by one.

~~~

James T. Kirk was only half listening to the Admiral speak. Instead, he was zooming in of Harrison’s face. There was something wrong about it. Something…off.

Jim frowned down at the screen as red light filled the room. ‘What?’ he thought, glancing once more down at his screen, standing up as the craft waited for one, silent moment before beginning to fire.

“Everybody **down**!” James yelled, thrown forward a little as the sound of glass breaking, people screaming, and bodies thudding to the floor filled the room.

It was the perfect setup. They were all here, all expecting to be safe. There were no weapons in the room, no way to defend themselves from the rounds slowly taking down each officer.

James ducked down, running to the doorway, stopping in the shadow of a pillar, breathing heavily.

“Okay.” He panted, glancing to his left, his mouth dropping open as the scene before him unfolded.

Pike was standing, a look of focus on his face as he ran slowly across the room. His hover chair rested, abandoned by the table.

“Come on Pike. You can make it.” Kirk yelled, catching Pike’s attention.

It was then that Pike fell, his regenerating legs unable to work without the focus that he had been giving them.  
Kirk cursed, scrambling toward Pike.

“NOooOOOOoooo!” Kirk heard someone scream as Pike was shot, thrown backwards by the force of the projectile. He wouldn’t realize until later that that sound had been coming from him.

Kirk turned toward the ship, staring into the cockpit, a furious expression on his face. How dare John Harrison come  
here, attack the people that he cared for.

How **dare** he take Pike’s life.

**How dare he.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be posted in a few days.


	13. Portable Trans-Warp Beaming Device

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fire hoses can be useful (even when there is not a fire).

Security teams rushed into the room, alerted by the sounds of gunfire and the window that had been broken.

“Give me that.” Kirk commanded, snatching the pulse gun from one man’s hands, turning and firing at the gunship, a snarl on his face.

It took only a moment for him to realize that the weapon was doing nothing.

Kirk dived behind a pillar, taking shelter as the gunship turned toward him, covering the area around the pillar in gunfire before returning to the back doorway for one more futile attempt to break through the metal.  
What was he aiming at? There was nobody there.

As if the pilot heard him, he began targeting everyone still in the room, killing without impunity.  
Kirk took a deep breath in, and then another, preparing himself before he dashed out of the room, moving into the hallway.

_‘Something to stop him, something to make him crash.’_ He thought, looking toward the small gunship, his eyes alighting on the small air intake on the bottom.

Anything bigger than a softball inside that intake would ruin the engine. It would make him crash. That was good.  
Kirk looked down at his gun. It was definitely made of the right materials to destroy the intake, but he might need more than one shot.

Something to tie it too then.

But what? Kirk looked around, hoping for a stray cord of some sort, his eyes landing on the fire panel. The fire hose.

That would work.

Kirk skidded toward the panel, pulling it out and grabbing at the hose, wrapping it around the weapon and tying it off.

“Okay. You wanna play? Lets play.” Kirk said as he threw the gun, watching as it sailed through the air and missed.

By a long ways.

_“Are you kidding me??!?!???”_ Kirk yelled as he pulled the gun back up, aiming more carefully this time, watching with satisfaction as it sailed straight into the intake manifold.

“Ha!” he crowed, looking behind him as he heard an ominous creaking noise.

_‘OH that can’t be good.’_ He thought, throwing himself to the ground as the entire fire station was ripped out of the wall, drawn by the fantastic pressure of the intake pulling on the hose.

Kirk looked up as the unit slammed into the bottom of the gunship, standing and watching as Khan was enveloped in the particles that made teleportation possible.

He stared into Khan’s eyes, memorizing his face, swearing to himself that he would hunt this bastard down.

Captain James Tiberius Kirk was still standing there when emergency services arrived.


	14. Is this Earth?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't really remember what I wrote, so I'll write something about Star Trek below.  
> Star Fleet! Khan! Warp Speed! Reverse the polarity of the neutron flow!
> 
> ...  
> .....  
> I meant....beam me up Scotty.
> 
>  
> 
> Yea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that everyone has a wonderful person to spend tomorrow with! :D

A portable trans-warp beaming device is exactly what it sounds like. It’s a portable version of the beaming devises on many starships, with one exception. It does not require anything more than coordinates and a power source to work, moving the   
intended target through warp-space and delivering them to the specified coordinates.

One of the disadvantages of portable devices are that they don’t usually have the encryption and coded protection that a ship’s beaming system will have.

So it’s easy for someone with the right technology to hack into the device, changing the coordinates.

This was what Admiral Marcus was doing while Khan decimated Star Fleet command, sending bodies falling to the ground, their faces frozen with expressions of pain as they expired.

~~~

Khan stared at the man that had ruined his ship as it spun around, whining in distress.

_Military, often disobeys rules, used to command, cares very much for his subordinates, arrogant, angry-perhaps one of his comrades was killed?_

No matter.

Khan kept his face expressionless as strange, glowy things began circling around him.

_Most likely designed to protect during teleportation._ He refused to say _‘beaming.’_ It was a ridiculous verb.

Khan removed his hands from the steering controls, closing his eyes and holding his breath as he was moved through space.

Khan Noonien Singh, once known as Sherlock Holmes materialized on a strange planet, standing up in one abrupt motion, looking curiously at his surroundings.

“Is this Earth?”


	15. Scotty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scotty goes through the wreckage and finds something interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am an awful, terrible person and I do apologize for the insufferable delay in posting this chapter.  
> I've been working almost nonstop on either college stuff or working at my job for the last really long time and I just didn't have the energy to finish this chapter up (I did this one in PoliSci).  
> I have chapter 16 partially written and will get it out ASAP for you.  
> Thank you for reading!  
> *bows and runs away*

Slipping onto the crash site was easy. All a man had to do was look like he knew where he was going and be wearing the uniform to get into most places in Star Fleet.

People just assumed that you had reason to be there. Scotty did, it just wasn’t an..officially mandated reason.  
A ship had to undergo an amazing amount of checking, readjusting, and fine tuning before she could be considered ready to go.

A warp core could take _days_ to prime correctly, especially with the magnetic forces of the space station and the planet to account for. And what does his genius (idiot) captain decide to do?

Pull him away from his ship and set him to digging through wreckage.

Scotty was muttering insults and promises under his breath as he rummaged, hissing a soft curse under his breath as he cut his finger on a twisted piece of scrap metal.

“Oh…well hello there.” He murmured as he looked down at what had cut him, tossing several pieces of metal out of his way so he could turn the cylindrical device over and see just what it was.

“Well, well, well Mr. Evil Man. Where did you get this little beauty?” Scotty murmured to himself, standing up and grunting as he hefted the device in his arms, letting out a little air before he got it settled and began   
walking toward the perimeter.

“What are you doing?” one of the guards asked, stepping in front of Scotty and halting his progress.

“What am I doing? My job! What are _you_ doing?” Scotty asked, giving one of his best unimpressed looks to the man.

“My job. You can’t leave here with that.” The Guard said, seemingly unaffected by Scotty’s glare.

“I suppose you’ll be the one to tell him of that then?” Scotty asked, nodding meaningfully at the building behind them, where the Admiral was just visible, walking along a balcony as he surveyed the wreckage and walked with a few other officers.

“I’ll just go let him know that I can’t do my job because you said so, shall I?” Scotty asked, keeping his eyes on the guard as the man shifted from foot to foot. Nobody liked to get into trouble at the workplace, especially when the bosses were in town.

“Carry on.” The guard said as firmly as he could manage, trying to look like he was still in control as he stepped aside, letting Scotty by.

“I will.” Scotty said with a nod, slipping past the officer with a murmured oath about the weight of the trans-warp beaming device.

~~~

It only took a few minutes to hook up to the device and take a peek at its destination list.

Scotty sent several seconds cursing before he picked up the device again and sent a message to Kirk, telling him to escape whatever meeting he was stuck in and _fast._

~~~

“I know where he went, and you’re not going to like it.” Scotty called out to Jim as he spotted the man coming toward him with the serious expression and hurried stride that all the Star Fleet Officers wore now.

 **“ _Where_ Scotty?”** Captain James Tiberius Kirk asked, looking down at the device with a frown, as if he could reach through it and drag James Harrison back here so he could personally beat the criminal within an inch of his life.

“He went to the one place where we cannae go Sir.” Scotty began, cutting short his ramble about how he really needed to be back with the Enterprise when he saw the look on Jim’s face. “Kronos Sir. He went to Kronos.”


	16. Assignment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk confronts Marcus with the location of Kronos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finals...UGH....

Admiral Marcus had been in constant meetings since the attack.

Status meetings, action plans, updates on the search for Harrison, both from Star Fleet at large and those who had worked more closely with the augment.

Nobody was finding anything.

Of course, this was perfectly fine.

At first, nobody would think to look off planet, and the search through the wreckage of Harrison’s fighter would soon reveal the beaming device, and then he could justify a wider search.

But for now, it was best to make them feel _safe._ Call all the ships home so they can protect us. It was only a matter of time before **somebody** put the puzzle pieces together, and then there would be a line for the privilege to hunt down the fugitive.

He would make sure of it.

When Kirk burst into an update on the search for Harrison, Marcus took one look at him and had to take a deep breath in to remind himself not to smile.

“What are you doing in here Kirk?” he barked as the young captain headed around the table, moving directly toward him, ignoring the disapproving looks from the other men at the table.

“He’s not on Earth Sir.” Kirk said, taking a deep breath in, no doubt to contain the urge to leap over the table in between himself and the Admiral and demand the right to chase after him.

“And how would you know that?” Marcus asked, lacing his fingers together and placing them in front of his mouth as he looked up at Kirk, making sure that he still sounded stern, on the verge of disciplining the man for interrupting the meeting.

“Because I know where he is, Sir.” Kirk said, placing his hands on the table and leaning toward Marcus, getting ready to continue before Marcus stopped him.

“My office. Now.” He said, ending the meeting and leading the way to his office, letting the smile free now that nobody could see him.

“Sir. He went to Kronos.” Kirk said, almost before the door sealed behind them, keeping anyone from listening in.

“And how do you know that? All of Star Fleet looking for Harrison here, and you’re the only one who comes up with the answer that the man went to Kronos?” Marcus asked, walking leisurely along behind his desk, smirking down at the models of spacecraft, all the way from humanity’s rather pitiful first attempts to the U.S.S. Vengeance, the pride of Star Fleet.

Or at least it would be, as soon as she was christened in blood and war. The Vengeance would lead the world – the universe – into a new era.

One where he would lead his troops into battle, standing at the head of a weaponised Star Fleet, leading them to victory.

“Sir? Admiral Marcus?” Kirk pressed, bringing Marcus back to the conversation at hand.

“This is a turbulent time Kirk. Star Fleet cannot afford a man such as Harrison free.” Marcus said, staring directly into the young captain’s eyes.

“I’m sending you after that Bastard.” He said, starting up a hologram, showing the Proton Torpedoes that the augment had created before he went rogue. “These are Star Fleet’s newest creations. They’re completely undetectable and untraceable. I’m sending you with our full complement and I want you to park at the edge of the Neutral Zone and fire every single one of these at that Traitor. I want him _gone,_ do you understand me?” Marcus asked, nodding as Kirk saluted, his face set, determined to follow the path that was laid out for him.

Too bad that he wouldn’t make it back.

“Go to it.” Marcus said, dismissing the young captain, watching the man leave before sitting down at his desk with a soft sigh, ordering that the weapons be loaded onto the Enterprise and that a small device be placed inside the warp core’s stabilizing system, set to activate right at the edge of the neutral zone and terminate the ship’s ability to move at faster than light speeds.

It was a shame that the Enterprise would be lost. She was a beauty of a ship, small and delicate and so, so bright, a perfect representation of the old Star Fleet.

The Vengeance suited him much better.


	17. Unexpected Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise Chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BAM!

The Photon Torpedoes were shiny and new and looked to be everything that Admiral Marcus had promised.

There was only one problem.

“Scotty, why won’t you let them onboard?” Kirk asked, impatient to be on their way.

“Do you wanna know why Captain? Because of that.” Scotty said, pointing at the warp core behind home without looking, an indignant expression on his face.

“The Warp Core?” Kirk asked, moving to the side a little to see if there was anything else that Scotty could have been pointing at. Perhaps a new sign that said that no experimental weaponry was allowed on board.

“No, the bloody coolant system. Of course the Warp Core!” Scotty said, waving his arms in an agitated little motion before settling them by his sides.

“The Warp…Core?” Kirk said again, not quite catching onto what Scotty was unhappy with.

Apparently the engineer saw this, because he took Kirk by the shoulder, hauling him closer to the core, pointing up at it.

“Do you know what that is Captain? Not just the Warp Core, but what it _really_ is?” he asked, leaning in toward Kirk’s ear a little.

“God, I don’t know Scotty, a way to go really fast?” Kirk said, wanting to get this over with already and be on their way.

“No! It’s a nuclear disaster waiting to happen! Anything could unbalance it! Liiike a bunch of experimental weaponry whose contents are –“ Scotty said, releasing Kirk and striding back to the torpedoes, pressing his fingertips against one before pointing at the man standing next to them, who chimed in with a bland look.

“Classified.”

Scotty looked triumphant.

“Classified! And if I don’t know what’s in them, I can’t adjust for them in the stabilizers, and I’m certainty not letting them onto my ship.” Scotty finished, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Scotty, please!” Kirk asked, trying to look as Captain - like as possible.

“No.” Scotty said, enunciating very carefully, wondering if the man in front of him had somehow misheard his speech about radioactive disasters and why they should be avoided.

“That’s not a request.” Kirk said after a moment, a somewhat pinched look on his face.

This made Scotty pause, thinking for a moment before he stepped in close to Kirk, lowering his voice. “Think it through Captain. Experimental weapons? That’s not us.” He said softly, trying to make Kirk see reason.

“Let them on board Scotty.” Kirk said, just as quietly.

“I can’t.” Scotty said, standing still as Kirk abruptly turned pacing a few steps away before spinning around again and pacing back to his Chief Engineer.

“Let them on.” Kirk tried again, his voice low.

“I cannae do that Captain! If you keep insisting, you’ll have to take this.” Scotty said, holding out the data pad in his hand, almost dropping it into Kirk’s.

“What is it?” Kirk asked softly, looking down at the schematics represented there with more than a little confusion.

“My resignation. Do you accept it?” the Chief Engineer said, interrupting his Captain before the other man could speak again. “Do you accept it? Or not?” he asked a touch more forcefully.

“Fine. Yes, I accept it.” Kirk said, a frown pulling down on the edges of his lips as he watched Scotty leave the Enterprise, with Keenser following him, bumping compatibly against the Engineer’s legs.

“Ach! Watch it!” the former engineer said, trying to look cross before he gave in and smiled at the little life form.

“Let’s go get a drink. Maybe several.” He decided, and they left the ship together.


	18. Unexpected Gain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone sneaks aboard the Enterprise!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SUPRISE POST! :D

Carrol Marcus walked calmly into the Enterprise, following the Photon Torpedoes a small data pad held in her hands, showing a scrolling menu of projects that her father was working on.

There was nothing about any sort of experimental torpedoes, and no record of the transfer.

“What’s going on here?” Carrol whispered to herself, exiting the lists and pulling up a transfer order, using her mother’s name to identify herself.

If the name ‘Marcus’ appeared anywhere, it wouldn’t take an instant for someone to figure out exactly who she was. The moment that that happened, her father would know as well.

“Sir? Lieutenant Carol Wallace reporting for duty. Admiral Marcus assigned me.” Carol said, holding out her falsified transfer order, watching as a Vulcan appeared at Captain Kirk’s side, peering over his shoulder and reading the order.

That must be Commander Spock, his first officer.

“Impressive credentials Lieutenant. However, they are redundant since I am aboard the Enterprise.” He said, nudging the tablet back toward Carol, with a hint of some sort of emotion on his face. It was so suppressed that it was hard to tell what it was though…

“Ahhh, let her stay. The more the merrier. Welcome aboard Lieutenant.” Kirk said, handing the tablet back to her with a smile.

“Thank you Captian.” Carrol said, slipping into the hallways to wait until the men transporting the torpedoes were gone. One of them might know her face.

“Lieutenant Wallace has impressive credentials. It is illogical to have two Science Officers aboard.” Spock said as himself and Kirk walked away, his hands clasped together behind his back, staring straight ahead as they  
walked.

Kirk peeked at him from the corner of his eye, a little smirk pulling up at the edge of his lips. “Are you _jealous_ Spock?” he asked with a tiny smile, stepping into the lift, turning around and watching Spock step in after him, the almost invisible traces of emotion visible to him.

“Jealousy is not an emotion that I understand.” Spock said primly, his vacant expression giving way to a smile as Kirk laughed and bumped his hip against Spock’s.

“That is not acceptable behavior for two on duty officers Captain.” He said, the smile on his face growing so that it was an actual expression.

“This is my ship. I can do whatever I want.” Kirk said with a grin as the lift opened and he stepped onto the bridge, absorbing the reports from every station that were called out to him.

“Checkov, you’ve been shadowing Mr. Scott, is that correct?” he asked, bending down a little to be heard over the hubbub of the Bridge as they prepared to departure.

“Yis sir.” Checkov said, nodding a little bit as he turned his chair to face Kirk.

“And you are familiar with this ships systems?” Kirk asked.

“Yies sir.” Checkov said, waiting for the Captain to make his point.

“Excellent. You’re my new chief. Go put on a red shirt.” Kirk said, clapping Checkov on the shoulder as he moved toward his special chair, sitting down in it and sprawling out as he talked through the usual departure list.

“Get ready to move out. Detach all moorings and umbilicals. One third impulse power to minimum safe distance. Warp 6, follow heading input into the computer.” Kirk said, running through the usual departure list as the ship moved away from the station, engines humming as they cycled up, the engine causing the decks to shake with the power of the engines. 

“Chief? Sir?” Checkov said, slumping a little in his seat before he stood, walking past Kirk to the lift, feeling completely un-ready to do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do need to watch the movie again before I post the next chapter ( I want to be sure that I get the next sequence of events right) so it may take a liiiitle longer, but please be patient with me and remember that I think about this story a lot, especially at work!


	19. Breakdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakdown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made free with the science with this chapter.  
> Also, I must apologize for the incredible delay in writing this, I lost almost all motivation to finish this and ended it partway through what I had intended to write.

Moving at warp speed was a delicate balance of radiation, matter, and energy.

For example, if too much energy was funneled into the warp core, it would emit large amounts of radiation, and if that radiation went above the containment threshold of the chamber it was stored in…well, the Enterprise would be intact – if irradiated – but her crew would all be dead in seven minutes unless they managed to make it to the shuttles in time.

So it was very serious business, moving at six times the speed of light, no matter how often it was done.

Checkov – after changing into a red shirt and giving himself a short pep talk – headed down to engineering, stationing himself at one of the panels monitoring the core, keeping an eye on the readings that it was putting out and coordinating the rather large engineering team as they did all the things that were needed to keep a ship like the Enterprise running during warp.

Four hours into their flight, a small beeping noise interrupted a conversation between Checkov and a senior engineer.

“Oh! Brace fur impact!” he yelled, entering his key code and dropping them out of warp, falling forward onto the console as the warp core stopped powering the ships movement.

Within seconds, Kirk was on the line.

“Checkov did you break my ship?”

“No Sir. I – Sorry sir! I don’t know sir!” he said, looking over the readings, trying to figure out what had caused the burst of energy into the core.

“Figure it out.” Kirk ordered before the line went dead.

“Yis Sir.” Checkov said quietly, puffing out a breath, his cheeks filling up with air for a moment before the air escaped. “Okay! Any injured to medical bay! Everyone else, check all primary and secondary vwarp control systims and report any malfunctions.” He said, reasoning that that was a good a place to start as any.

The engineers chorused their consent with a flurry of ‘Yes, Sirs’ and coordinated among themselves, some heading to the computer banks to look at the logs, others heading to manually check the control systems for any burn outs.

Checkov stayed where he was, crawling backward through the readings, trying to track the malfunction to it’s source.

Back up at the bridge, Kirk had sent two of his people down to the bridge. They had been thrown forward onto their station during the stop. It was probably nothing, but a ten minute trip to medical was worth it as long as they weren’t hurt.

Besides, there were plenty of people left to fill in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I'll try to be faster writing this time! :]


	20. Stuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turns out that they are stuck.

It took a long time for the hubbub on the bridge to die down.

Kirk spent the time ordering the injured to medical bay and waiting for a report from Engineering.

“Sir, I have scans of the planet, and I have isolated John Harrison’s position down to three miles.” Sulu reported, turning in his chair to Kirk as the man moved about the bridge, several flashing lights on his workspace.

“See if you can get any closer.” Kirk ordered as Chekov’s report came in.

“Keptin. Ve have not found ze source of the problem yet, but vwe are working on it.” Chekov said slowly, clearly not liking the news that he had to report.

“Find it and fix it, as fast as you can. We can’t stay here for long.” Kirk said, leaning back in his chair as he thought.

“Captain.” Spock said, appearing behind Jim’s chair, making him jump a little. Of course, the Vulcan didn’t _ever_ think that scaring Jim was entertaining or _ever_ go out of his way to do it.

_It just happened._

“What?” Jim asked, straightening his shirt, pretending that the abrupt motion was simply him doing that. Just because Vulcans were sneaky.

“I would like to point out to you that our current mission is against Star Fleet regulations. If this is about Admiral Pike..” Spock began, his hands clasped behind his back as he spoke, looking neutrally toward the front of the bridge.

“John Harrison has to be hunted down. Can we fire the torpedoes from here?” Jim asked, eying his commander.

“Technically? Yes.” Spock said, clearly unhappy with that facts truth. “I would not recommend it though. Without our warp capabilities, we would have no hope of escaping the Klingon retaliation that will follow.”

“Open a ship wide channel.” Kirk said after a few moments of silence, leaning forward and beginning to speak, imagining his words being carried through the entire ship.

“As most of you undoubtedly already know, the former captain of this ship and out friend, Christopher Pike is dead. The man that killed him has fled to Kronos, where he imagines that we will not follow.

The engineering team will continue working to repair the warp core and I will personally lead a landing party to apprehend the criminal. He will be taken back to Earth to stand trial for his actions.

Let’s get him. Kirk out.”

As Jim finished speaking, the bridge seemed to relax, going about their work with serious expressions. However now it was a solemnity born of knowing that they were doing the right thing, instead of worrying over their actions.

“I believe that you have made the right choice.” Spock said, leaning into Kirk’s line of sight.

“Of course you do, I just agreed with you.” Kirk groused, standing up. “Sulu, you have the chair. As soon as I leave the ship, I want you to point the torpedoes at Harrison and demand his surrender.” He commanded, walking toward the lift as Sulu nodded, leaving his station and looking at the chair for a moment before taking a deep breath and sitting down.

“If I can be of assistance, I would be happy to accompany you on the away team.” Spock said, sticking close to Kirk as the captain paced into the elevator.

“You. Happy?” Kirk asked, raising his eyebrows at the science officer.

“I was attempting to convey an idea by using your vernacular.” Spock commented, already turning to go back to his seat, stopping when Kirk spoke again.

“Spock. Of course you can come.” He said, watching the man step into the elevator.

The doors had almost closed when Uhura slipped in as well.

“Unless you can speak fluent Klingon, shut it.” She said, looking at the doors as they closed.

“I wasn’t going to say anything.” Kirk chuckled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have returned from my wedding (I didn't get married, I just attended one). In. The. Middle. Of. Nowhere.  
> BUT.  
> I am back~ and I have fixed all the things that fell apart in my absence and I and my rather fickle muse have written a whole new chapter for you, deleted it, then re - wrote it from scratch!  
> Enjoy.


	21. Threats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scarves are added. Threats are exchanged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my family is being annoying and I wrote this chapter instead of doing my chores. *muffled sounds of rebellion*

After a quick stop to change clothes, and one to find an appropriate scarf to ‘make this collar look less bad,’ Spock, Jim, and Uhura were on their way down to the shuttle bay.

“How did Sulu even know which one I wanted to take?” Jim asked when he saw a security team waiting by a small cruiser that they had confiscated last month. It had been supposed to have been processed into the Star Fleet evidence lockers, but there had been no time to unload it before they had left.

“I do not know.” Spock said, heading into the ship with a smirk, Uhura ducking after him.

“Lose the uniforms.” Kirk ordered as he hopped inside as well, peeking back out when the men didn’t move. “Unless you want to start a war, we are now arms dealers from Kenoria. Problem?” he asked.

“No sir.” The two mean replied, sharing a glance with each other as they went to change.

“Excellent.” Kirk said, walking into the bridge – suppressing the need to duck, it was so much smaller in here than in the Enterprise – and settling into the central chair, playing around with the command screens, getting used to the controls until the (former) red shirts re – boarded.

“Lets go. Sulu, remember. Be tough.” Kirk said as he steered the ship out into space, settling in for the ride to Kronos.

~ ~ ~

Back on the Enterprise bridge, Bones listened to the chatter that accompanied a ship leaving the shuttle bay and turned toward Sulu. “How did you know what ship to fuel?” he asked the other man, waiting curiously for the answer.  
“I had them all fueled.” Sulu answered with a small smile and a chuckle as Bones shook his head.

~ ~ ~

The descent into Kronos was smoother than Kirk expected, perhaps because there were very few weather patterns in the region.

“Start scanning with the information from the Enterprise.” Kirk ordered, piloting the ship through the abandoned ruins that made up the majority of Kronos.

It took only minutes to find him.

“I have him sir.” Spock located, swiping the name of the province over to Uhura for translation.

“The Ketha Province.” She said after a moment, reading the signs and markings on the buildings around them.

“Sulu, we found our man. Send the transmission.” Kirk ordered, ending the connection with the Enterprise as soon as possible, not wanting any old sensors to pick up the sudden activity.

~ ~ ~

It had been almost a week since he had been here, furnishing himself with a weapon made from parts scavenged off of an old ship.

The atmosphere was thin, and filled with pollution, however the augmentation Khan Noonien Singh possessed made the climate easy to withstand.

The plan was to take over one of the patrols – by now he knew when they would come – and use the ship to get him back to Earth. That was where Marcus was, and so that was where Khan would be.

As soon as he managed to take the ship.

The transmission changed all that.

He had to admit, this Hikaru Sulu was an interesting man. There was no sign of fear or apprehension in his voice as he delivered his message.

Sherlock had stopped his work as soon as the message began to bounce around the ruins, listening to the voice for a moment before putting a filter on it, waiting for the man to attempt to order him to surrender and report to a certain location.

A star fleet ship would be even better for getting back to Earth than one of the ones from the patrols that passed through the ruins on a semi – regular basis.

Sherlock turned back to his work when something caught his attention.

“…unleash the entire payload of advanced, long range torpedoes currently locked onto your location…”

Wait.

_Advanced long range torpedoes?_

They couldn’t have.

But what if they had?

**What if they had sent the weapons here?** _To defeat him?_

The idea was laughable, unlikely in the extreme.

But.

**What if??**

No. It was a bluff. His crew would have been detonated long ago, some used up in demonstrations and some put into storage for a very rainy day.

Perhaps an attack on a meeting containing every captain and first officer in the quadrant enough was rainy enough to merit a few of the new weapons that Star Fleet possessed, courtesy of one frozen man.

It was a start.

With even a few of his crew (just one certain member would be enough) his advantage would double, triple, increase exponentially. Then he would be able to find the others.

It was a chance that he could not afford to lose.

Khan moved quickly, taking every weapon that he could fit into his coat (such a shame, losing the Belstaff), making a few quick calculations and beginning to run, kicking a few motion detectors along the way, triggering the alarms.

An enemy patrol would be an excellent way to test the ‘highly trained operatives’ that had been sent to apprehend him.


	22. Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps Star Fleet is not as impressive as he had thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me and my random posting, I know how frustrating it can be. *bows*

There was nothing on the sensors until the first hit.

Kirk cursed, spinning the small ship to the side, avoiding a second, and then a third attack.

“A class M – 5 Klingon vessel is following us.” Spock reported, working the controls, looking as if nothing strange or exiting was happening.

However, that might just be because he was on the Enterprise, and less because of his Vulcan ancestry.

“Still there.” Uhura reported a few moments later as Kirk spun them through the ruins.  
He had missed this type of flying, feeling the engines respond to him, sending their little cruiser whirling was twisting through the ruins.

“This ship has no offensive capabilities.” Spock pointed out as the Klingon patrol only got closer to them.

“It’s got us.” Kirk grunted, spotting a gap in the ruins up ahead. This could be bad.

Like, smashed to oblivion bad.

Another hit to the hull – accompanied by the wailing of the siren – convinced Kirk that there was no other alternative.

“Give me all ten fuel cells.” He ordered, heading straight for the gap.

Of course, Spock figured it out almost immediately. “This ship will not fit.” He said, hanging onto his control panel as Kirk tilted them sideways.

“Spock.” Kirk pouted, not risking taking his eye off the gap to see his Commander’s face as he replied. “If I say it’s going to fit, it’ll fit.” He said, gasping a little as the cruiser actually did fit and they burst out of the other side.

“There.” Kirk panted, checking the sensors that he could see for any sign of the Klingons.

“They aren’t showing up on out sensors.” Uhura reported a few tense moments later.

“We lost them.” Kirk said, turning for a moment and raising an eyebrow at Spock.

“Or, they are jamming our sensors.” The Vulcan pointed out, never looking away from his instrument array.

“ _Or_ we lost them.” Kirk said, again, bringing the ship to a stop as first one, then two, then three lights were activated, shining into the bridge. “Damn.” Kirk said, looking down at his lap for a moment, trying to think of a way to get out of this one.

He went over their situation, hoping some solution would present itself. Running out of fuel, no weapons, no options, no fuel, no weapons, no options, no _anything._

“Sir. They’re telling us to land. They’re going to take us, and torture us, and kill us.” Uhura said, her voice a little shaky.

“So we run.” Kirk tried, looking up and out again, hoping to see some gap in the Klingon’s formation, some weakness that he could use.

There was nothing.

“Land.” Uhura suddenly said, standing up and looking down at Kirk. “You need to land.” She said again, looking more determined by the second.

“You can’t go out and talk to them.” Kirk said, shaking his head.

“You brought me because I could speak Klingon. Now let me speak it.” Uhura said, reaching over and lowering the ship down herself.

“I didn’t actually bring you.” Kirk said, tempted to lift the ship back up, try and make a run for it, to deny that his neat little plan had failed.

“I’m still going out there.” Uhura said, fixing her scarf as Kirk opened the gangway and let the ship’s engines die down, their revolutions slowing and then stopping completely.

Kirk almost took them back into the air as Uhura approached the Klingons the spilled from the other ship, looking perfectly identical in their helmets and uniforms.

“If you interrupt them now, they will kill her.” Spock reminded Kirk as the blonde haired man dived for the weapons compartment, giving a blaster to everyone aboard the ship, setting Spock’s near him when the Vulcan did not move to accept it.

The sounds of Uhura’s conversation came to them in broken fits and starts, the harsh language incomprehensible to them.

~ ~ ~

As it turned out, Star Fleet was pathetic.

If these people counted as ‘highly trained operatives’, then it would be easier than Khan had originally thought to take their ship and get his people back.

He did need them alive for that though, which meant taking out the Klingons that the Star Fleet Idiots had so foolishly allowed to take them. It had happened faster than Khan had calculated, and he was creeping up toward the meeting when the leader of the Klingon group lifted the translator up by her neck, sliding a blade from his pock sheath.

It was now or never.

Khan broke cover in a hail of gunfire.

His first seven shots scattered the Klingons on the ground, incapacitating or killing five of them and sending the rest diving for cover.

One ship moved toward him – that was a mistake – and it fell from the sky after a short blast from his other weapon.

Reinforcements would not be far away – two and a half minutes at the most, and only that if someone was running behind, so Khan focused on taking out as many enemies as possible, noticing the rest of the group from Star Fleet run from their shuttle and join the fight. They didn’t even bother to stay together even though they clearly were unable to fight efficiently by themselves.

Only 47 seconds after Star Fleet had joined the skirmish, a blonde man had dropped his weapon and was on his back in front of an approaching Klingon.

“Idiot.” Khan sighed as he was forced to save the man’s life, using up one more of the precious shots of his larger gun.

The man just _looked_ at him as Khan spun to his right, firing two last times up at the Klingon reinforcements, taking 14 opponents out of the equation before they could even enter it.

When Khan had time to look back where the man had been, he was gone, hopefully possessing the intelligence to find his way back to the other Star Fleet members.

The last of the Klingon attempting to kill him expired in one last carefully aimed salvo – he had to shoot twice at one of them in his rush – and Khan dropped his weapons, leaping from his perch and flipping in the air, dispatching the last enemies with their own weapons, taking a gun from the ground and pulling a knife from the waist of another, killing him with it and spinning in place to stab the last one in the neck.

A glance toward the Star Fleet Idiots showed that two of them were gaping at him (human) , while the third (species unknown) had _apparently_ forgotten about the weapons lying all around and looked as if he were preparing to challenge Khan to hand – to – hand combat.

He would lose of course, but such measures were not necessary.

Khan snatched up a weapon from the ground, aiming it at the blonde man as he advanced with a series of quick steps toward the group.

“Stand down!” the one with the pointy ears yelled, remembering that he possessed a weapon and aiming it at Khan, looking quite fierce.

“How many are there???!” Khan yelled at the group, aiming his gun at the pointy eared male for an instant, using the time to shoot the weapon out of the male’s hands without harming him before Khan pointed his weapon once again at the blonde male.

“How many?” the blonde one asked, meaning his words to carry only to his companion’s ears, either not knowing about or vastly underestimating Khan’s hearing.

“The missiles that you threatened me with in your message. _How many are there?_ ” Khan asked. He must have looked quite dangerous, in these clothes, having just destroyed an entire squadron of the beings patrolling this planet with little more than a rapidly healing scratch to show for it.

“Seventy – two.” The man answered.

All of them.

Every single one of his crew was within his reach, and the easiest way to get to them was – 

“I surrender.” Khan said, straightening and throwing the weapon aside, watching the pointy eared one scramble to pick it up off the ground and aim it at him.

The female looked…surprised as they stood up.

The blonde man was angry.

He stood just a few inched away from Khan, staring at him.

After a moment he spoke.

“On behalf of Christopher Pike, I accept your surrender.” The man said, his shoulders tensing.

Khan had ample warning to prepare for the strike. He allowed his head to snap for the side, forcing the part of his mind palace that offered fighting techniques to remain silent as he kept himself within reach of the man, bending when the other pulled his head down and slammed a knee into his stomach, breathing steadily in and out, waiting for the human to expend his rage.

“Captain!” the woman yelled after six blows.

Khan was overjoyed. If _this_ man was captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise, this man who clearly felt so deeply, every emotion going to almost his very core, then he had a chance.

“Captain.” He said, his eyes running up and down the man’s body, re – analyzing him, verifying the truth of the woman’s claim in his face and in the way that he commanded the other two, wiping his mouth and ordering for Khan to be cuffed before he turned away, moving back to the ship.

He had done more damage to himself than to Khan with those few blows, but perhaps they would allow his anger to cool enough.

Perhaps he could be convinced of the truth.

If not, well, it would not be too difficult to escape whatever pitiful cell they stuck him in, and a few more corpses would make no difference to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweet heaven above I just fell of my bed because a really loud thunder-y thing scared me just as I was about to click post. It came from nowhere guys. THE GODS ARE ANGRY.


	23. Cell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Small robots are interesting, and showers are nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to everyone that commented.  
> You give me life and happy feels.

The hand cuffs that Star Fleet preferred were effective, encasing the wrists as well as the arms, meaning that the person (or super – person) in them would be unable to pick the locks himself, or even reach them.

The alien male placed the cuffs around Khan’s wrists, squinting at him but saying nothing as ‘John Harrison’ walked tamely into their ship, choosing a seat across from the door.

One man sat across from him, the only remaining member of the ‘security’ team.

The other was in the cargo hold.

As Kirk piloted the ship into the upper atmosphere, seamlessly adjusting for the higher velocity of the winds, Khan listened in on their conversation.

“He had an ulterior motive. A criminal of his caliber does not simply surrender.” Spock warned, believing his words to be unheard by the man in the back compartment.

“I know that. Did you see him fighting?” Kirk hissed back, thinking about Harrison’s abilities and shaking his head. He had the feeling that there was something here they were missing.

“We’re clear of the atmosphere.” Uhura reported softly.

“Contact Enterprise. Tell them to have accommodations made ready for Harrison. I want guards on him the moment we touch down.” Kirk commanded, listening to Uhura arrange it.

~

“They caught ‘im. I don’t believe it.” Bones commented, leaning over the speaker, listening to Uhura speak with absolutely no shame.

Sulu sighed. “Don’t you have duties to see to?” he asked, sending a message to have the brig made ready and for a security team to meet the shuttle in bay three.

“My duty is taking care of this ship’s crew. That includes our Captain, God help us.” Bones said with a small shake of his head.

“He is…inventive.” Sulu acknowledged with a small smile.

~

Checkov was waist deep in an access panel, his team having started checking every possibility that would cause a warp core to destabilize when they found nothing in the primary and secondary systems, and no problem with the in – flight logs that the computer kept.

~

As the shuttle landed, the security team gathered in two rows, phasers in hand.

Khan had to bend nearly double to fit through the tiny doorway, and Kirk watched as he was surrounded and led away by the security team.

As for Khan, he watched everything, noting the areas they passed through and beginning to create a map of the Enterprise.

He payed no attention to the people, even the blonde woman that caught his eye for a moment.

When the team stopped in front of a door way, the two in the front motioning him inside with their guns, Khan obliged, smelling soap and hearing running water.

As soon as the door had sealed itself behind him, the cuffs unlocked themselves, dropping to the floor. A small machine retrieved them, zooming out from a niche at ground level and heading back there with a pleased _whirr_ when it had the cuffs.

Khan hummed, bending lower, the seams where the doorway opened invisible to him. There was no weakness to exploit here, unless the robots could be reprogrammed to run into people’s feet.

Although upon reflection, that might not be too effective for anything but a moment’s distraction. 

It felt nice, taking the time to wash every last molecule of grit off of his body.  
Of course, his clothes were gone, replaced by a black uniform bearing the star fleet logo.

Khan considered not wearing the shirt for a brief moment, or tearing the insignia off it before he discarded both ideas as a useless waste of energy, as well as letting the enemy know of his…dislike for them.

As soon as Khan had finished adjusting the shirt, another door opened, sealing itself as soon as Khan walked through it.

His cell was quite nice, considering.

At least it had a bed, which was more than his accommodations on Kronos could say for themselves.

It was a long time before anyone came to speak to him.


	24. Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Khan and Kirk talk. Spock worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday darlings! I started my second job, so I'm pretty busy, but I couldn't make you wait anymore after all the lovely comments that I got~  
> Thank you so much for your continued readership!  
> Love,  
> WickedSweetSalt

_“You wanna talk to him?”_ Bones hissed, peeking around the edge of the corner at the man.

“Bones. Focus.” Kirk said, rubbing a hand against his forehead. His medical officer seemed to be all for telling him just how insane his plans were, but there was something strange going on here.

“I am focusing!” Bones said with a frown, shaking his head at the prison block. “This is ridiculous. You said he took out a squad of Klingon and _you want to talk to him_.”

“Just get the blood and analyze it.” Kirk ordered, tired of arguing the point.

Bones paused for a moment, noticing Kirk’s change in tone and recognizing the order. “Okay, fine. But he stays locked up.” Bones reminded. It would be just like his captain to release the mass murdering augment onto the ship.

“How idiotic do you think I am?” Kirk asked as he turned, walking into the central room, the cells arrayed all around him.

“Stay calm Captain. He will attempt to use your emotions against you.” Spock warned quietly as Khan came into sight.

The man was standing away from the walls, peering out into the cell block.

The damn man looked like he was a king on his throne, just waiting for his subjects to come before him, asking for his favor.

“I cannot help but notice that we aren’t moving Captain.” The dark haired man rumbled as they came to a stop in front of the cell.

“We need a sample of your blood.” Kirk said, keeping his face under control as Bones moved the portal over, widening it just enough for Khan to put his arm through.

The man stopped, watching the doctor with something close to fascination. He moved closer, rolling up his sleeve with a few deft movements, showing no reaction other than an objective soft of interest as Bones took the blood.

“Do you have what you need?” Kirk muttered to Bones after a moment as the man stepped away and Khan pulled his arm back into the cell, rolling his sleeve back down.

“Yes.” Bones replied, giving the augment one glance before closing the portal and walking away, headed to his lab to analyze the blood.

“You didn’t answer my question Captain. Why have we not moved?” Khan repeated, staying close to the barrier, looking 

Kirk up and down before staring directly into his eyes, leaning forward as if he were about to pounce.

“Don’t.” Spock warned softly, watching Harrison watch Kirk as he turned around, keeping the man from reading his lips. 

His captain was too emotional, and Spock knew that the fugitive would take advantage of that.

“We’re having some mechanical difficulties.” Kirk said, glancing at Spock before he replied, carefully weighing the phrase.

“Perhaps with your warp core?” Khan asked with a smile, tilting his head to the side. “How convenient, that you are now stranded on the edge of Klingon space with no weapons and no way out.”

“How do you know that?” Kirk asked stiffly, tensing up at Khan’s knowledge of their current mechanical issues.

“Oh please. _Think about it._ ” Khan scoffed, looking up toward the ceiling of his cell. He had expected so much more from this man whom the other members of this crew seemed to have such loyalty to. “I surrendered to you because, despite your stunning lack of intelligence, you have a conscience. If you did not, I would already be dead.” He pointed out, turning and walking away a few steps in a surge of energy before he turned and walked back.

“I am going to give you two very valuable pieces of information Captain, so please try and pay attention. Twenty – three. Seventeen. Forty – two. Twenty – one.”

“Coordinates?” Kirk asked, glancing back over his shoulder at Spock, wondering if the walking knowledge base knew where they were.

“Close to Earth.” The Vulcan said after a moment of calculation, narrowing his eyes at Harrison, clearly trying to attempt to use logic and figure out his motives.

“Correct.” Khan said with a nod, taking a moment to think before he spoke again.

“The other information?” Spock asked, staring calmly at Harrison when the man glared at him. Was he mad for being interrupted?

“You’ve had them all along. The torpedoes. Open one of them, and then come back to me.” Khan purred, turning and laying down on what passed for a bed in this cell.

Sherlock retreated into his Mind Palace, barely registering the sound of the two star fleet officers walking away.

He had deductions to make, but first. . . perhaps going back to a few of the memories from 221B would not go amiss.


	25. Bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drinking. Phone calls. Plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a criminal. This story sort of fell by the wayside with finals and then Christmas/Holiday Preparation that needed to be done at the store where I work (god help me).  
> So now I'm going to give you my Tumblr so you can remind me to get off my behind and write a chapter every now again.

It was loud in here, and the music was an assault to the ears, but the advantage to this particular club was it’s out of the way location.

Nobody from Star Fleet came here, and that was just fine as Montgomery Scott was concerned.

“I mean, who does he think he is? I was just doin me job, and then there were all these modifications and torpedoes, _torpedoes_ on my ship! So I say somethin and bam, I’m fired. Just like that.” Scotty complained, picking up one of the smaller glasses on the table and draining it.

He had forgotten what they were filled with, but it was good, and apparently had a very high alcohol content, which was also good.

“What?” Scotty barked into his communicator as it chirped, holding the device up near his face.

“Scotty, I need you to do me a favor.” Kirk said from where he was, leaning against the wall, keeping an eye to make sure that no crew members seemed too interested in his call.

“Oh! If it isn’t James Tiberius Kirk, the man with the annoyingly perfect hair!” Scotty scoffed, waving at Keenser and pointing at the communicator before he took another sip from his drink.

“Perfect hair? Look Scotty, I’ve got some coordinates that I need you to check out.” Kirk said, deciding to completely ignore the music that he could hear coming through the communicator. “Are you ready?”

“Oh, so I can’t even remember four numbers now?” Scotty huffed. The man was unbelievable.

“Twenty – three. Seventeen. Forty – two. Twenty – one. Did you get them?”

“What was the third one again?” Scotty asked after a moment, shaking his head as Kirk repeated the entire sequence.

“Are you going to go?” James asked, turning a little further into the wall as a gaggle of crew members passed.

“And what makes you think that I will? You _fired_ me.” Scotty said bitterly. He already missed the Enterprise, with her beautiful systems and advanced technology.

“What? You quit. And I didn’t want you to go.” Kirk disagreed.

“Then _why did you fire me?”_ Scotty asked, moving a little closer to the communicator to make sure the Kirk heard every word.

“Look, will you just go check it out?” Kirk snapped, losing patience with this entire situation.

There was a long silence on the other end until Scotty spoke again.

“I want an apology.”

“Fine. I should never have fired you.” Kirk grumbled into the device.

“I take that is your best attempt at an apology?” Scotty said wryly, rolling his eyes. “I’ll accept it, and I will consider it.” He said, taking an obscene amount of pleasure in snapping the communicator shut over Kirk’s attempts to get him to stay on the line by calling his name.

“Even when he fires me, he still calls to try and get me to do things. Well, that’s not happening.” Scotty grumbled, leaning back into his chair, tucking the communicator back into his pocket.

“No. We’re not doing it. Don’t give me that look!” Scotty sighed, draining his drink and setting it down with a _clunk._

“Fine.” He said, standing up, murmuring under his breath about the unreliability of one certain yellow – shirted man with too many IQ points and an entire ship to call his own.

Back on the Enterprise, Kirk sighed at the communicator, banging it gently in his palm before he hung up. Scotty would either check the coordinates out or he wouldn’t. Another call would only bug him.

Instead, Kirk opened a channel to the bridge.

“Captain.” Spock answered, his normal neutral tones emanating from the communicator.

“Are you in my chair?” Kirk asked, turning toward the bridge. Nobody sat in his chair unless he allowed them to.

“I am standing next to your chair.” The Vulcan said, making a conscious effort not to move where he was sitting, just in case the material made a sound that would be audible over the comms connection.

“All right. Have Uhura send a message to Star Fleet telling them that we have Harrison and will be on our way as soon as the repairs to the warp core are done.” He ordered, choosing a lift and stepping inside, timing his speech to conceal the noise.

“Yes sir.” Spock said, typing out the command and sending it to the communications station, telling her to add on an estimated time frame for their arrival back on Earth.

“Is it done?” Kirk asked as the lift arrived on the bridge and he saw the man sitting in his chair. “You are such a _liar_ Spock!” Kirk complained as he nodded at the bridge crew, allowing them to go back to their respective tasks with minimal fanfare.

“Technically, while you are away from the bride, I am acting Captain. It was my chair.” Spock said, taking a moment to remember the regulation numbers, opening his mouth to tell them to Kirk before the man cut him off.

“You know the regulation tags don’t you?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at the Vulcan.

“Yes sir.” Spock said with a little smile.

“Get up.” Kirk huffed, sitting down as soon as Spock had removed himself, standing to the side with his hands clasped behind his back.

Kirk smirked up at his commander, opening his mouth to say something when the speaker in the arm of his chair came alive.

“Checkov to Bridge.”

Kirk leaned over, cursing the young man’s damnable timing as he pressed the button to open a channel between them. “What is it?”

“Sir, we found the leak, but ze damage is qwite extenziev. Vwe are working on it, but . . .” he reported, trailing off as he tried to find a way to make the time frame sound good.

“Sir, I accept full responsibility.” He said instead. On his very first day as Chief Engineer, everything had gone to pieces. Checkov was sure that this would have never happened if Scotty was still here.

“It’s fine. I have a feeling that it wasn’t your fault.” Kirk said, remembering what Khan had said earlier. “Just get it fixed as soon as you can.”

“Yes sir!” Checkov said, ending the communication, nodding to himself before continuing his walk to the core, pulling the welding goggles down so that they hung from around his neck.

Now that he knew where the problem was, he hoped that it would prove simple to repair.

“What sort of planets are there around here?” Kirk asked, leaning forward in the chair, addressing the petite brown haired woman seated at the Tactical Station.

She was new to the bridge, but seemed competent enough. Spock was the one that had chosen her for training, so Kirk expected nothing less.

“There is a small Class Five moon nearby.” She said, pulling up a scan of the moon, revealing a barren surface.  
Kirk smiled.

“Now we just need someone who can take a top secret torpedo apart.” He said with a smile that usually preceded insane plans with little to no chance of actually working.

Spock began to worry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha! made you read the chapter (or scroll to the bottom)  
> Tumblr = howcanyoudream  
> Look me up so that you can yell at me for not posting (seriously, it'll help), ask me questions, or just talk.


	26. Who?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A crew member is not exactly who her (apparently forged) transfer paperwork said.  
> What a shock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is much better than waiting however long for updates.  
> All my love to you :3

“I am perfectly qualified Captain.” Spock said, standing calmly in the center of the Observation Window, his head turning to spot the moon that Navigation had selected for two lucky members of the Enterprise to open a highly dangerous experimental weapon on.

“You’re not going.” Kirk said flatly. The volcano was one thing, Spock had been the best one to send, but now, there were two science officers aboard.

“We’ll send Wallace.” Kirk said with a nod, heading back to his chair. She was a weapons expert and everything. It worked perfectly.

“You cannot suggest that we send the Admiral’s daughter to a barren moon with an experimental torpedo.” 

Spock said, staying where he was.

Kirk spun around, an almost comically confused expression on his face.

“What Admiral’s daughter?” He was sure that he would have gotten notices if someone related to anyone that important in command had transferred onto his ship.

“Doctor Carrol Wallace forged Transfer Orders. Her true name is Carrol Marcus.” Spock said.

“When were you going to tell me?” Kirk asked, raising his eyebrows at the Vulcan.

“When it became relevant. As it just did.”

Kirk blinked. Relevancy was going to kill him one day, he was sure of it.

“Have her report to Observation Room Three.” He sighed, deciding to take up that particular argument later. It was one that would take a long time, he was sure.

~

Doctor Carrol Marcus’ communicator beeped, spilling out a few sentences when she held it to her ear and acknowledged that she was listening. When the short transmission was over, she sighed, setting aside her scanning device.

She wasn’t getting through the shielding within the torpedoes anyway.

When she entered the Observation Room, Carrol looked around, seeing only two other people in the room.  
Captain Kirk and Commander Spock stood by the window, staring into space as they conversed quietly about something. The Captain occasionally punctuated his speech with gestures seemingly designed to help get his point across.

“Captain.” Carrol said, coming to attention as she announced herself.

Kirk turned, and adopted an expression similar to one sucking on a lemon drop.

“At ease.” He ordered quickly, walking across the room toward her. Spock followed, placing himself to her left.

“Why did you lie your way onto my ship?” Kirk asked, after a moment of silence.

Spock’s soft exhale went almost unnoticed in the following silence. Trust his captain to cut right to the heart of the issue, every. Single. Time.

“I am sorry about that. Did I cause you any trouble?” Carrol asked, tilting her head a little to the side as she looked up at Kirk.

“We would like to know why an Admiral’s daughter felt the need to leave with the Enterprise on this precise mission.” Spock said, trying to keep the both of them on topic.

Carrol turned toward him.

“Haven’t you figured it out? It’s the torpedoes. My father allows me access to all of the projects that he oversees, except for these torpedoes. When I asked im about them, he refused to see me. After that, they disappeared from all official records and made their way here. I want to know what they are.” She explained.

“Unofficial torpedoes. Wonderful.” Kirk said dryly. This mission was an interesting one, he had to give it that.

“Do you believe that you are capable of taking one apart?” Spock asked, turning to fully face Carrol.

“I do, but I will need help. Someone with steady hands.” Carrol said, heading toward the door. “Oh, and Captain? Geneva sends her regards.” She said before leaving the room.

“Who is Geneva?” Spock asked.

“I don’t have a clue.” Kirk said honestly, shrugging a little bit before turning toward Spock.

“Wow, this room is so empty of observers.” He pointed out with a slow smile.

Spock looked toward the door, opening his mouth to say something before he closed it and walked toward Jim.

“Now is hardly the appropriate time.” He reminded Jim, his fingers laced together behind his back.

“We could be attacked at any moment. Now is the perfect time.” Jim said, stepping forward and leaning against Spock’s side with a soft smile that the crew never saw.

The Enterprise hummed around her crew, her power generators working to maintain the little ones that called her home, and watching the strange, angular man in the Brig.

He was pacing.


	27. Spaghetti

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparations are make for opening up the incredibly dangerous torpedo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *evil laughter*

Doctor James McCoy has seen a lot of ridiculous things since he has signed on board the U.S.S. Enterprise.

Sea Serpents.

A Time Travelling Vulcan.

Time Travelling Mining Ships intent on destroying his home planet and the time travelling Vulcan.

So when his Captain walked into the Medical Bay, trying to act casual, he knew that he was in trouble.

“What do you want?” he asked, stopping the other man near the door. Best to get it over with right away, before he would mess with something in med bay trying to act casual.

Captain James T. Kirk looked offended.

“What do I want? I want to check on my medical officers, and make sure that they have everything that they could possibly need.” He said, smiling a little bit and looking around.

McCoy was not impressed.

“What else?”

Silence settled between the two men, broken when Kirk let out a huff of air.

“I need you to help Doctor Marcus disarm a torpedo.” He said quickly, as if the details would escape McCoy.

“Are you out of your mind? No. Don’t answer that.” McCoy hissed, his eyes opening wide.

What kind of medical school did these people think he had gone to??

“Doctor Marcus needs ‘the steadiest hands on the ship.’” Jim snarked, clearly mimicking an accent . . . of some sort.

“And you came to me.” McCoy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He could already feel the headache forming there.

“I am here.” Jim pointed out, raising one eyebrow at the doctor.

It only took a moment.

“I want an extra week of paid leave after this.” McCoy sighed. Why, why, why did he have to get put aboard _this_ ship, with _this_ Captain and his unreasonable requests?

“Report to the shuttle bay.” Kirk ordered with a grin, standing there for a moment as the doors closed behind the doctor before he realized that he was standing in the middle of med bay and headed down to engineering.

Carrol was there, scanning all of the torpedoes with a small array. Three very impatient looking engineers stood behind her, speaking amongst themselves and comparing tablets. There was some sort of schematic showing on all three of them, but Jim understood none of it, especially when he was looking at it through the back of the tablet.

“Picked one yet?” Kirk asked, coming to a halt by the tail end of one of the torpedoes.

There was a number stenciled on the side. A quick tilt of the head allowed Kirk to read it. 007-3669.

All right.

“There are some differences in the way that a few of them are built.” Carrol said, pointing out a few changes in the shape of the housings, almost as if someone had been experimenting with the technology.

“Unfortunately for us, they’re all shielded. We have no real idea what sort of security will be there until we open one up.” She said regretfully, setting the scanner aside.

“Take that one.” Kirk said, pointing at a torpedo at the far end of the line.  
Carrol looked suspicious, straightening up and leaning in a little toward Kirk, making sure she knew what torpedo he was actually pointing at.

“Why that one?” she asked, wondering how Kirk had picked that particular torpedo out of all the others.  
Kirk shrugged.

“You said they were all the same right? So take that one. Captain’s orders.” He reasoned out with a slight shrug.  
Carrol paused for a moment.

“You know, I really am impressed that they have you your own ship.” She said dryly, walking and ordering the arguing engineers to take the torpedo and load it onto Shuttle Three.

“It’s worked out so far.” Kirk called after Carrol with a smile, stepping into the lift as the torpedo was secured onto a cart.

A quick request to the ship’s computer brought Spock bursting into his quarters ten minutes later, greeted by two overlarge plates of food and a small container of ice cream, all placed neatly on the small table the graced the Captain’s quarters.

“You are not injured.” Spock pointed out, setting aside the medical kit that he had liberated from the emergency station on the way here.

“Nope.” Kirk agreed, leaning back in his chair until he was balanced on two legs, not – so – subtly inhaling the aroma of spaghetti.

“Then why have you called me off of the bridge? Someone needs to keep watch.” Spock pointed out, worried about their ship, and the threat of discovery by the Klingons. The repairs were in progress in Engineering, but until their Warp Drive was repaired, they would be in considerable danger if discovered.

“For the next few hours, that someone is named Officer Macmillan.” Jim said, letting the legs of his chair fall back to the ground. “It’s going to be at least that long before the shuttle gets to the moon, and you and I could use some sleep, and food. The rest of the main bridge crew has orders to get some rest. Macmillan has orders to wake us up if anything happens, or when the shuttle is entering that tiny moon’s atmosphere. Now sit, or do I have to order you?” Kirk rattled off, nearly having to resort to ticking items off on his fingers as he listed them off.  
Spock looked mildly startled as he eased into a seat across from Jim.

“You have prepared well for our absence.” He complimented, taking the fork out from where it was stuck, standing up in the center of his spaghetti.

“I can do some things.” Kirk said, picking up his fork and digging in. He had been getting tired of waiting for Spock, and had been unreasonably tempted to start eating without him.

“Are you including your sexual abilities as part of that estimation?” Spock asked, adopting what Jim liked to call his Vulcan – face as he took a bite of spaghetti, consuming the neatly wrapped bundle in a single bite.

Jim hurried to swallow his bite before he replied, one noodle hitting his lips, leaving several lines of sauce on the human’s face. “Of course I am. Those are valid abilities. I practice and everything.” He drawled, grinning at the Vulcan across the table from him, who suddenly found it unreasonably difficult to focus on eating.

Jim knew it too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do have the plot for the next TWO chapters written and all planned out. I would tell you to expect them soon, but then my muse will abandon me.  
> Also: You may expect a sort - of appearance from a Very Important Character next chapter!  
> [I want to see guesses!]  
> My tumblr: http://www.howcanyoudream.tumblr.com


	28. Unaware

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Watson is unaware.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a plan, I swear. I had it written. It was READY to post.  
> But it never sat quite right.  
> So here we are again, with me apologizing for the delay and you hopefully still there to read this chapter that I have written from scratch in the last hour.  
> Thank you.

John Hamish Watson. Military professional, medical professional, Captain John. Hamish. Watson.

The name had been expunged from all professional records, courtesy of Mycroft Holmes. The appropriate people had been instructed, bribed, threatened or some combination of the three.

With his day’s work done, the English Government settled down to an evening cup of tea, a newspaper, and a few carefully selected biscuits.

All that there was to do now was wait.

John Watson was waiting too, frozen inside the cryo-tube. Useful inventions, created by an even more useful mind.

Years slid by, unnoticed by the men and women in stasis.

John Watson remained unaware, unheeding of the news that might have reached him – had there been anyone awake aboard the ship to receive it.

Mycroft got a grey hair.

Harriet Watson was killed in an automobile crash. It wasn’t her fault, as many might have assumed upon hearing the news. She had taken a taxi home, finally having learned the difference between the ability to drive and the drunken certainty that she could drive well enough to get home.

There was a truck that left its lane, forcing the taxi onto the sidewalk. Harriet Watson’s only error was not wearing a seatbelt.

She flew forward as the taxi came to an abrupt halt upon hitting a traffic light.

Her death was instant – painless.

Greg Lestrade finalized his divorce, losing nearly everything in the ensuing legal battle. He struggled to pay child support and rent for the small bedsit that he had found near the Yard.

Some days, tea showed up in his cupboard. It was always followed by a certain suited man, who let himself in when his other work was done.

What had first been a disconcerting expierence became commonplace. Lunches were scheduled and occasionally cancelled. Tea appeared, along with a high quality tea set for two.

They aged.

Gregory Lestrade was promoted, and then promoted again. His work moved from the streets to the office, coordinating the resources arrayed underneath him to best work for the city that he served.

The paperwork was endless, and he missed getting out in the field with a ferocity that surprised him. Eventually, the grizzled old detective accepted his fate, showing the young and fresh how to do the job.

Eventually, he retired.

The pension was enough to live on.

Detective Inspector Donovan brought cases by his house for a while, and then not at all.

Greg travelled the world, squinting suspiciously at his ticket whenever it was mysteriously upgraded to first class.

He brought back souvenirs that cluttered up the mantle, much to his partner’s dismay.

_‘It was boring.’_ He declared, returning with an extra bag and a suntan. _‘You’ll have to come with next time.’_ He added. _‘Before we get too old to go gallivanting off.’_

Apparently, his partner did not gallivant.

The next trip was much better. America was an odd place, full of violent contradictions.

Slowly, Mycroft Holmes trained those who would replace him.

There was no one person capable of filling the role that he played – the only one with the potential was long gone, out among the stars.

Some nights, Mycroft stood outside until his bones ached, staring up at the night sky, his eyes slowly picking out constellations until his partner drew him back inside where it was worm, worrying over the cold.

They never made it out again.

Even retired, Mycroft was dangerous.

One shot ended him.

It was clean. Clinical was the word that the doctors used.

Someone appeared to take care of the paperwork.

Mycroft Holmes was buried on a lazy Thursday afternoon.

The following year, Gregory Lestrade was placed next to him.

Occasionally, a few people will stop by the solitary graves, kneeling to place a flower or two on the ground. They look up at the tree that shades their father and the man that he had grown old with, remembering a time when they had been too angry to see him and regretting the lost time.

As centuries pass, the graves will fall into disrepair, and the tree will wind its roots around the dead wood boxes, finding ways inside. It will take the nutrients there, fueling its growth of new leaves.

Eventually, the tree dies too, of sheer old age.

And John Watson slept on.

Others wake up, and die, trapped in the heart of an age that they will never know.

Sherlock survives – Khan survives, escaping and hiding for a week among the peoples of Kronos before he surrenders, a spark of _hope_ burning inside his chest. That foolish thing that John Watson so thoroughly taught him. He paces in his cell, and then lays down on the bench, his hands supporting his chin as he thinks and waits, daring to _hope._

John Watson is unaware of the attention that surrounds him.

He is unaware of the beeping warning, the countdown, the desperate maneuver that stops it all.

He remains so as the torpedo – the weapon – is disassembled from around his stasis tube.

A scan is taken, and uploaded onto a data pad. The information is given to the Science Section on the bridge for analysis, and then to Captain Kirk.

For the first time in over three hundred years, someone looks upon the face of John Watson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one hurt me too.


	29. Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A second meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that commented about last chapter. It was wonderful reading them (and getting the emails letting me know that someone had commented).
> 
> I am extraordinarily grateful to each and every one of you (commenter or not).
> 
> (but maybe a bit more to the commenters :P )

A man. A maaaaannnn.

There was an actual human being stuffed inside of an experimental torpedo.

Of course.

The impressive part, according to Spock was that the torpedo still worked. He had been looking over the pieces of the weapon as they were removed from the stasis tube down in a loading bay.

Bones had not been shocked in the last, solemnly announcing that the things that he had seen on this ship had killed his ability to be surprised by anything in the known universe. He had taken immediate custody of the stasis tube, recruiting a couple red – shirts to manage the heavy lifting and heading down to the Medical Bay to start taking scans and finish his analysis of Khan’s blood. He had a few ideas to try out.

“I’m going down. Macmillan, you have the bridge.” Kirk announced, standing up and stretching as he thought about what to do next.

This mission had seemed to _want_ to go awry, almost from the moment that it had started.

Doors opened and crew moved out of the way as Kirk paced through his ship, his feet steering him toward the Detention Area as he searched for an answer.

His top priority now was to protect his crew.

Harrison was seated on the bed in his cell when Kirk walked toward the cell.

“Harrison.” Kirk began, pausing when the man sat up in one startlingly smooth motion.

“Captain please. Let’s dispense with the formalities.” Harrison purred, taking up a position in the middle of his cell. He almost looked as if he were taking the stage. Graceful bastard. How had he even managed to slick his hair back like that anyway? Nobody should be able to look that . . . pristine in a jail cell.

“What formalities are those?” Kirk asked, unable to help feeling a little inferior. It is not a sensation that he found extremely uncomfortable.

“Let’s be truthful with each other. Since you are here, your people have finished looking over my torpedoes. Either they perished or they have found what was _inside_ them.” Harrison rattled off, seeming to disdain the simplicity of the deductions that he was forced to explain to the human across from him.

Kirk nodded. “We found something interesting.” He agreed, retrieving a data pad from the security console, loading the image of the man’s face onto it with a few swipes across the surface.

He turned the tablet toward the cell.

Harrison’s reaction surprised everyone who would later watch the recording.

Harrison blinked, several times in quick succession before his face settled into stillness as Sherlock fed the new variable into his equation, fighting to contain his glee at John’s nearness, and his horror that he had nearly been destroyed in a massive explosion.

_Of course it would be him._

Kirk watched as Harrison’s eyes seemed to fix upon the man, following it until Kirk’s arm got tired and he stopped holding the data pad up, erasing the image and allowing his arm to hang by his side.

“Who is he?” Kirk asked. Harrison’s reaction had been strong, anyone could see that the man was important to him.

And then, like someone had hit a switch, Harrison’s reaction was gone, erased from his face as if it had never existed.

“A member of my crew.” Harrison intoned.

Kirk raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yes. Who else would be in one of my torpedoes?” Harrison sneered.

“I’m sure we can find out if we ask him.” Kirk said smoothly.

Harrison stilled, and when he spoke again, it was sudden – a natural disaster happening right before an astonished Kirk’s eyes.

“You wouldn’t _dare._ ” The man snarled, advancing to the very edge of the cell, pressing his fingertips against the glass as if he were about to phase through it.

For a wild moment, Kirk almost believed that he could.

“You tell me what I need to know, and I won’t need to talk to him.” Kirk said, staying as still as he could and pinning his gaze on Harrison’s eyes.

Harrison considered that for a moment, the air lying heavy with possibility between them.

Then Harrison broke away, muttering to himself as he paced to the back of the cell, eating up the space in a couple of strides and returning to the glass as soon as he had reached the far edge.

“I surrendered to you because – despite all that _Star Fleet_ has done to me, I can see that you have a . . . conscience. It will allow you to see that I speak the truth.” Harrison said, seeming caught up in some memory, his lips twisting into a snarl as he spoke.

“What truth?” Kirk asked, his voice low. He was leaning toward the glass now, as if by doing so he could coax the answer out of the man.

“My people . . . When I was awakened, there were bodies on the floor. Your **Admiral Marcus** had awakened them without the proper passcodes and they died before they had a chance.” Harrison hissed, going still as he recalled what had happened.

Nobody noticed Spock slip into the room except for Harrison, his eyes shifting away from Kirk for a moment as he observed the Vulcan approach.

“Your people are civilized. You know _nothing of war_ , and therefore cannot prepare effectively for the threats that you face. Admiral Marcus . . . used the people that I care about to control me.” Harrison’s voice softened as he remembered the threats against his crew. He stopped at the far edge of his cell, taking deep breaths to master himself. He would show these people no more than was necessary for them to believe the truth of his words.  
Sherlock turned around.

“You wanted to know who that man is Captain. I will tell you. That is John Hamish Watson.” Sherlock announced, a cat’s smile pulling up at the edges of his lips.


	30. Disbelief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An arrangement is made after a signal is received.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marvel released another Age of Ultron trailer, so I'm going to do my darndest to one - up them.

Immediately, Jim was suspicious. “John Watson?” he asked, glancing sideways and seeing Spock working to master his expression of surprise.

“How do you know about John Watson?” he asked the man before him, looking him up and down. Many people knew about Sherlock Holmes, he had something of a following on Earth but very few people knew that he had once had a companion. Even fewer knew that man’s name.

Spock remembered listening to stories about the detective and his ‘blogger’ when he was a small child. He had taken solace in the fact that there was at least one human that was capable of higher logic and had studied the man for many years. But only within the family had he ever heard mention of a John Watson.

Sherlock’s reply was immediate. “I lived with him.”

Kirk shook his head, opening his mouth to speak when Sulu’s voice filled up the detention center, the background noises of the other people on the bridge not completely filtered out. “Sir, I’m receiving a warp signal.”

Kirk’s mind went to the most immediate threat. “The Klingons?” he asked, turning toward the speaker, ready to dash to the bridge and command his ship through what was sure to be a battle.

“No sir. They’re coming from the wrong direction.” Sulu reported, trying to diving meaning from the strange reading that he was getting. Ships moving at warp usually sent a signal ahead of themselves, ensuring that the place they intended to drop out of warp was clear of ships by the time they got there. Normally the signal was clear, containing the ship’s dimensions and status information, but this ship – whatever it was – was sending only a warning.

“Moving at warp? Please Captain, do think about it. Who sent you here with a payload of advanced weaponry? Do you really believe that your Warp Core just _broke down_ at the edge of Klingon space, leaving you helpless to counter whatever revenge the Klingons can muster after you decimate their planet?” Sherlock spat, the words flying from his mouth, almost of their own violation. “You and I both know who that is. He will not look kindly upon your disobedience.”

Spock did not speak, looking to his captain for guidance. Kirk looked down at the floor, trying to decide what to do. Run? Fight? Bluff? Eventually, Kirk settled on getting more information.

“How long until they get here?” he asked Sulu, listening impatiently to the soft sound of Sulu calling up more information on his computing screen. “Half an hour. Maybe less.”

Kirk nodded slowly, digesting that information.

“Thank you Sulu.”

The beep as the channel to the bridge was closed left an awkward silence behind it. Sherlock leaned against the wall of his cell, staring at Kirk, making his deductions about what the human’s next move was most likely to be. He did not pay any attention to the Vulcan watching him, knowing that Spock was not a threat at the moment – Kirk held all of the power here.

When Sherlock did speak, it was quiet and quick, rain falling on a rooftop. 

“I can help you. I possess an intimate knowledge of the ship that he will bring and -“ Sherlock began, racing to organize the advantages that he brought.

“Stop.” Kirk said, holding up a hand, surprised that the other man had actually stopped speaking. “You aren’t going to give away your assistance for nothing. What do you want from us?”

“When this is over, I take my crew and leave this place.” Khan said firmly, not surprised when Kirk was shaking his head almost before he finished speaking.

“You still need to answer for the crimes you committed.” Kirk said, remembering the red light filling up the room, just moments before the man in front of him had opened fire, killing unarmed Star Fleet officers, including the man that had taught him everything that he knew.

“You _need_ my help.” Sherlock warned, seeing that Kirk was becoming angry.

“I want to wake that man up, John Watson.” Jim said abruptly, his eyes meeting Sherlock’s for the first time since Sulu had warned them of the signal. “If he trusts you, and I trust him, then we’ll talk.”

Sherlock pressed his lips together before his shoulders dropped. At the very least he would be able to see John – _truly_ see him – once more. “Very well Captain.”

Kirk nodded, turning around to speak to the Lieutenant currently managing the brig.

“Lieutenant. Get six guards down here and take him to med bay. We’ll meet the team there.” He ordered, Spock falling in at his side as he left the block.

“Sir, I must advise against this.” Spock began as soon as they were in the hall, stopping when Kirk shushed him, pulling the other man into a seldom used junction and leaning against him for a moment, taking and giving some small measure of comfort. Kirk would not admit that he was afraid, even to himself.

When Kirk looked up again, his usual self – assured smile was well in place. “What’s the worst that can happen? We already have one super – soldier onboard.” He pointed out, bumping his head against Spock’s chest before stepping out of the junction.

Bones was going to take some convincing.

Sherlock did not resist as he was restrained, his hands and wrists bound in the same metal cuffs as before.

_John was going to be awake soon._

What would he say? How would he react to this time, this technology? How would he look at Sherlock when he found out about all of the things that had been done in the name of revenge?

The tea here was garbage, how would John handle that? Were there enough jumpers and armchairs in this time to allow for a good selection if they ever managed to settle down? Where would they live? What sort of cases were there in this sanitized world?

Would he be sentenced for the deaths that he had caused? Would that sentence take him away from John?

All of these thoughts and more circled around and around within Sherlock’s mind, completely claiming his attention as he was escorted into the medical bay. Would John like all of this white?

Sherlock did not notice as Bones and Carrol Marcus conferred in the corner, looking over readings taken earlier in the day and offering theories back and forth, using medical terms that Sherlock had no context for, but sounded ominous.

He sat up straighter as they approached the capsule, requesting the code from him, and asking each other what a _Cluedo_ was, thinking that he could not hear them.

No matter, more important things were happening, the capsule was hissing quietly to itself, the top was unlocking, _**John Watson was waking up.**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all.


	31. Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Watson was not aware.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been waiting to post this for what seems like a really long time~!  
> *dances into the sunrise*

John Watson was not aware, but he did dream.

His dream was a simple one.

A fire, a cup of tea left cooling on the side table.

He was waiting for someone.

Slowly, it seemed to get darker, the light softening in degrees.

The tea was always fresh, waiting on the side table.

He would be cold when he got back, and the tea would help warm him up.

It was getting darker.

He should be back soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look foreword to John's reaction in the very! Next! Chapter!  
> (I'm so EXITED)


	32. Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Watson awakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the moment. THE moment. The scene for which I began this fic - at the time I had no idea that it would take over 23 thousand words to get here, but we made it.
> 
> I must take this chance to thank everyone.

The light was bright. _It was close._

Immediate.

There were voices.

They had a strange accent.

They were touching him – oh, they were much too _close_ to his person.

The light was bright the people were close they were trying to talk to him there must be something in his ears had he been sedated?

A hand lifted in an attempt to clear out his ears was quickly pushed back down to his side.

Where was he and why were all of these people wearing the same shirt – blue with lighter blue spots. It occurred to John that he was seeing quite well. Better than he had possibly ever seen before. There was a man with pointed ears standing near him. His mouth was giving shape and form to more words that just added to what John was already struggling to process.

He could _smell,_ and _hear,_ and _feel_ what seemed to be every single little thing that was happening around him. The air was pushing against him as people moved – **he should not be able to feel the air moving against him.**

It was all too much, too fast.

John Watson leaned over the edge of the tube he was in and threw up, dry heaving hopelessly once his stomach was empty. A soft sound caught his interest – cutting through the noise in his head.

He knew that sound.

He knew the voice that made _that._ _Sound._

It couldn’t be.

But, as John learned as he hauled his head up, it was. Of course, Sherlock looked strange – and paler than before – but that was nothing.

He was here.

Living, breathing, sharing the same space.

He was going to die.

Before he was aware of it, John Watson was moving, throwing aside the unprepared opposition as if they were no more than paper.

Before he had consciously made any decision, he was tackling Sherlock off of the small bed that he was perched upon. He did not register the shout the prevented the men in matching (matching?) red shirts from falling upon him.

John landed on top of Sherlock, wrapping his hands around the detective’s neck. He felt stronger, more sure of his movements than before, and he knew that he could crush Sherlock’s throat. It probably wouldn’t even be too hard. The Detective would not stop him.

Instead, John leaned down, sealing his lips to Sherlock’s.

Kirk blinked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you.


	33. Choke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's Primary Reaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I messed up. I've been promising you all a longer chapter but I thought that I had already posted this one, so to make up for it, I'll be posting two chapters today. (yes, the next chapter is a big one - 1,454 words EXACTLY)

“Well, that was interesting.” Kirk said mildly, watching as the man they had brought out of stasis kissed their resident terrorist full on the mouth, his panting one of the loudest sounds in the room.

“I am going to kill you _where have you been?_ ” John asked, staring into Sherlock eyes – they were the same shifting blend of color as always, and for once they were full of emotion. John’s hands removed themselves from around Sherlock’s neck to his shoulders, feeling the muscle there. There was more strength than there should have been locked in Sherlock’s shoulders.

_He_ felt stronger.

And Sherlock was silent – still. Why wasn’t he speaking? Had these strange people hurt him? Whatever had happened while he was out, sedated, whatever Sherlock needed to be okay.

Then Sherlock spoke. There was the barest trace of a wobble in his voice, and only John was close enough to see the way that Sherlock’s lower lip carefully formed the word, valiantly attempting not to tremble.

“John.”

It was all Sherlock said, and it was all that John needed.

“I missed you. So much.” John said softly, leaning down until Sherlock was the only thing that he could see. And smell. 

He could smell Sherlock, quite clearly. Perhaps it was a side effect of whatever sedative had been used upon him. “We are going to have a serious conversation later, you and I, but for now I’m just glad you’re here.”

Sherlock lay still, the floor beneath him blessedly comfortable – there was no other place that he would rather be right now. _John_ was here, _John_ was hugging him, _John_ was back and alive and they were both together.

It was all either of them needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HA I feel very, extremely guilty because this chapter is so short.


	34. John Hamish Watson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's Secondary Reaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ASPROMISEDHEREYOUGO

“Do you think we should stop them?”

The question came from Bones, who stood beside the stasis capsule, still holding the scanning equipment that he had been attempting to use on the man.

He had come out of stasis fast – much faster than normal, but he didn’t seem worse for it. In fact, if his tackling was to be judged, he was in top shape.

“I-I’m not sure.” Kirk said honestly, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t want to intrude on what seemed to be a very personal moment, but there was a potentially very angry Star Fleet Admiral hurtling toward their position at this very moment.

“Separate them.” Spock suggested grimly, leaning over his shoes with a towel, attempting to clean John’s vomit off of his shoes.

Kirk turned around, trying to figure out when Spock had moved. When he saw his second in command wiping three hundred year old vomit off of his shoes Kirk’s face transformed. Bones would later describe the expression as ‘maniacally gleeful.’

“Oh my god he threw up on you.” James whispered, seeing Bones turn around out of the corner of his eye.  
Spock would later tell Kirk that it was only logical that the man would vomit upon exiting stasis. It was a common side effect of the preliminary efforts at long - term preservation. James would point out that he should have been expecting it then, and remind him of the all – seeing power of logic.

“Give that to one of the medics.” The doctor instructed gruffly, planning to take several samples and add it to his research on the augments. Whatever this compact blonde man was, he had clearly been enhanced in some way. Even disoriented and confused, his movements had been sharp – coordinated as he had tossed them all aside on his way over to the other one.

Kirk stepped forward, waving the security team back. If it could be helped, he didn’t want to immediately present this man with the lovely image of a gun in his face, even if it was only a stun rifle.

“Hi. James T. Kirk. I ah, hate to interrupt, but we need to talk.” Kirk said, looking back at Spock for a moment as he spoke, widening his eyes at the other man. Was there even a good way to tell someone that they had been frozen for about three hundred years?

Apparently not.

Jim watched as John sat up, flushing slightly as he seemed to notice his audience for the first time.

“Hello.” Jim said, watching as John looked around the room, his eyes widening at the strange place that he suddenly found himself in.

“Where am I?” John asked, looking down at Sherlock and quite quickly standing up, automatically brushing his clothes off. He was wearing a light brown jumper, a shirt underneath, jeans, and a pair of loafers. Very normal attire for him, but these other people were looking at his clothes like he was the strange one here.

At least he wasn’t the one wearing clothes that seemed to be at least partly spandex. That would have been utterly inexcusable, and Mycroft would have had to pay for that later on. 

Mycroft. That umbrella – wielding bastard had _sedated_ him. Even if it had been Anthea wielding the syringe, John had no doubt that Mycroft was behind this elaborate . . . prank. Was this the way that Sherlock had wanted to come back to him? With really bright lights and people in matching uniforms and one suspicious pair of pointy ears?

Seriously?

John watched as the man in front of him tried to find words, looking at the people behind him for assistance.

It was Sherlock who spoke up, pulling himself into a sitting position and looking earnestly up at John.

“It’s been three hundred years since you were last awake.” Sherlock said softly. John had to give it to the Holmes brothers, everything looked very space – agey.

“Ha.” John chuckled, walking around the room, taking a closer look at some of the things scattered around. The actors got out of his way, looking convincingly confused. They really were quite good at faking it. “I have got to hand it to you Holmes’, you really know how to set up a joke. Is this really the way that you decided to come back? With spandex and fake ears?” he asked, nodding meaningfully at the man with the bad haircut that showed off his ears so well.

Sherlock looked aside for an instant before his eyes returned to John’s face. It was so . . . _peaceful_ to see him moving around again, his emotions marching across his face for everyone to see. Now all he had to do was convince John of the truth.

“John it’s real. It’s all real. You’ve been in stasis so you weren’t aware of the time, but I need you to trust me now.” Sherlock asked.

John huffed out a little laugh. “That’s it then? You, you _appear_ with this bunch and expect me to just, to just welcome you back? No questions asked? You were **gone** Sherlock. You died.” John pointed out, remembering the pitiful efforts that he had made to continue on with his life after the man in front of him had thrown himself off of the roof of Bart’s bloody Hospital.

It had been horrible, and he had wanted to die too, but – after a few weeks – he had kept going. Because that was what he did. He got shot, and he kept going. His best friend in the entire world died, and he kept. Going.

Not well, admittedly, but he had tried.

“I couldn’t tell you.” Sherlock said, standing up. He towered over all of the people around them, seeming taller somehow without his coat. “I had to go. The last of Moriarty’s web needed to be destroyed, and to do that, I needed to be _better_.”

Even Kirk knew that was the wrong thing to say.

John’s face crumpled, hovering between despair and rage for an instant before John chose. The small man advanced, showing absolutely no fear as he paced toward Sherlock.

“Better? Is that what you were? All I would have needed was _one word._ One word and I would have believed.” John said, pointing at Sherlock, hovering near him for a moment before he broke away. He needed space. He needed some tea, and he needed off of this bloody set.

John stopped next to James, speaking quietly to the man. “Take me home.” He said softly. John knew that there would be time later to expend his emotion in furious activity, but now he needed quiet. He needed to _think._

“I can’t. He wasn’t lying to you.” James said regretfully. “I don’t think that wherever you lived is still there, and we couldn’t get to it even if it was.”

John took a deep breath in. These actors were going to stick with it until the very end.

“Fine.” John said, his voice tight. “Where are we then?” If he had to tear apart this illusion with his bare hands, he would.

Kirk shook his head. “You wouldn’t recognize the name.”

John looked down at the floor, pressing against his forehead with one hand. “Show me then.” He suggested, his voice quiet.

Kirk nodded.

“Come with me.” He said, moving toward the door.

Within moments, Spock was in his way, telling him all of the reasons that allowing this man to roam the ship was a bad idea.

“Spock.” James said, interrupting his second in command. “Look at him.”

They both did so, watching the small man studiously avoiding Sherlock’s gaze from where he stood, silently looking over the capsule that he had come out of. Sherlock was trapped, hemmed in by his guards.  
If he had really wanted to, James knew that he could have been loose in a minute or less, but he just sat there, staring at John like his world was breaking apart.

Spock nodded. “I think I see what you mean.” He said as he stepped aside, observing the tension between the two augments.

“If it makes you feel any better, you can watch us through the security feeds.” Kirk muttered to Spock, knowing that the Vulcan would. It made him feel better that there was someone watching his back if this was all an act and John was about to string him up.

If it was faked, then the man before him was an amazing actor.

“Come on.” Kirk called to John. It didn’t escape his notice how quickly the small man moved toward the door, or that Sherlock leaned forward, watching them until the door swished closed between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come talk with me on tumblr, my username is howcanyoudream (we can talk about things)


	35. Observation Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John asks some questions, and gets some answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy weekend! *skips away into the sunset*

James led the way through the ship, moving from the interior hallways to the ones very closest to the exterior of the ship. There were several observation decks onboard, each with large windows where one could relax, eat, and look out into space.

They were especially beautiful when the ship was in warp and all of the lights from distant stars blurred together, creating a web of light around the ship.

Neither of them spoke, not even when they walked into the darkened space. Upon their entry, lights turned on, illuminating the walkway and little else.

John headed straight to the window, peering out into space with a little crease between his eyebrows. Kirk stayed close to the center of the room. If this was going to go bad, he wanted to have a chance in a fight.

It was a long time before John spoke.

“It’s not a lie is it?” he asked, lowering himself onto one of the low cushioned benches near the window, still looking out into space.

“No.” Kirk said, his reply just as soft as the question had been.

John sighed, running one hand through his hair. “Only with that man could this happen.” He huffed, almost laughing for a moment before his face settled back into blankness.

“I’m sorry.” Kirk offered. It was the only thing that he could think to say.

“It’s not your fault. Probably not even his.” John sighed, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. He could hear too much, see too much. It was a lot to process along with this . . . future.

“I need to know about him.” James said, moving between the tables and taking a seat near John on the bench. “There is someone coming after us, and if it goes wrong I need to know if I can trust him.”

John laughed. “Trust him? No. But he’ll help you.” He replied. He didn’t want to know what was coming for them, to be honest, it didn’t matter to him.

James digested that for a moment before he nodded. “You can stay here if you like. If you’re hungry speak into that port and food will appear.”

James walked toward the door, planning to lock the room behind him when John spoke again.

“If you get him hurt, we will have problems.” John warned, looking directly into Kirk’s eyes. The force there was surprising.

Kirk could only nod as he left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, back to the short chapters (sorry). The next ones should be getting longer.


	36. Considerations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captain Kirk and Spock try to figure out what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must thank you all for staying with me for all this time, and I hope that this tiny - a** chapter that I finally managed to write helps. I'm already working on the next one and I hope to post it soon.

Spock was waiting for him a few hallways down, a data pad in his hands.

As Kirk passed, the Vulcan fell into step with him, saying nothing. It only took a few junctions for Kirk to begin speaking.

“I think that we can use him.” The human said, looking straight ahead, preparing himself for the argument that he was sure to follow.

“I agree.” Spock said, mulling over the new variable that called himself John Watson. Whoever he really was, Khan obviously cared for him, and he for Khan. If need be, they could be used against each other.

As Spock agreed with him, Kirk nodded. It was a comfort – if a somewhat cold one – to know that his actions could be justified from the logical viewpoint that the Vulcan did his best to maintain.

A beeping noise from the communicators on Spock’s and Kirk’s waists kept any other words from being spoken. The men exchanged a glance as Spock answered the call.

“What is it?” Kirk asked, edging closer to the speaker.

“Sir. The warp signal is getting closer. I think that you should get up here.” Sulu answered. Behind his voice, Kirk could hear the bridge staff communicating with each other, calling out questions and status reports, as well as trading information.

“I’m coming.” Kirk promised, turning toward the nearest lift, stepping inside just a moment before Spock did. Sulu ended the communication.

It was only a moment after the doors closed that Spock began to speak, clasping his hands together behind his back as he always did when he was trying to hold onto their relationship as Captain and First Officer.

“Captain. I must convey my concerns about the following engagement. If there is any way that we can avoid combat, we should take it.”

Kirk looked at Spock, narrowing his eyes.

“Are you suggesting that we hand over Sherlock and his crew?” he asked quietly. He couldn’t believe that Spock was even suggesting this. “Can’t you see it Spock? If we turn them over, we’ve lost our best bargaining chip.”

“Given the opportunity, he would do the same to us.” Spock insisted, glancing aside as the lift began to slow.

“I don’t think that he would. Not as long as John Watson was with him.” Kirk said as the lift opened, and he stepped out onto the bridge, moving seamlessly into the frenzy of activity.

“Captain on the bridge.” Sulu called, turning in his chair to face Kirk.

“ETA of the incoming ship?” Kirk asked as he settled into his chair. Spock moved toward the science stations, checking in with them and gathering information.

“Four seconds sir.” Sulu reported, bringing up the area where the ship would appear on the main screen.

“Shields up.” Kirk ordered in the last few seconds that he had. The soft hum of the generators combined itself with the noise from the engines, offering comfort to Kirk.

For a moment, activity seemed to pause as the ship appeared, shedding the particles that it had accumulated in a flash of light.

It was a beautiful ship, and it was the most deadly thing that James T. Kirk had ever laid eyes on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay with me people. WE CAN DO THIS.


	37. The Ship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That looks . . . pretty dangerous . . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all.

The ship that appeared in front of the Enterprise was large, easily dwarfing the smaller exploration vessel. She was all dark reflective plating and angles, designed to deflect any incoming signal sent her way without expending any extra power.

She filled up the view screen, and Kirk found himself beginning to sweat as the doors over the engine core on the other ship closed, showing only a small portion of the engine.

This was a ship made to kill, and it was like nothing that anyone had ever seen. Such displays of force hadn’t been necessary for hundreds of years. For Kirk, it felt like looking at one of the soldiers that countries had maintained before they became unnecessary.

It was a horrifying sight, bristling with weaponry – a hulking menace next to the grace of the Enterprise.

Kirk took a deep breath and waited.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

John had stayed in the Observation Deck, doing his best to bring together his memories of how his body used to move, and how it reacted now. A short series of experiments had revealed to John that he was faster than before, as well as more coordinated.

He also seemed to be _thinking_ faster, but trying to compare this to how he had thought before led to no useful conclusions.

So.

He was in the future.

Even with all of the proof in front of him, it was a hard pill for John to swallow. What about Harry? Molly? Mrs. Hudson? Were they all frozen somewhere too, or was it just going to be him and Sherlock?

What did this future look like, other than very white? Was he going to get a nasty letter demanding all the taxes from the last however many years? Did he even have an identity here?

In short order, John Watson had worked himself up into an incredibly anxious state of mind. He tried to leave, sighing when the door refused to open for him.

Maybe there was some sort of implant that people had now to open doors for them. Whatever it was, he certainly didn’t have one.

John turned back toward the room, noticing the gap in the wall, and remembering what the man in yellow had said about it. Hopefully, they still had tea in the future.

John walked toward the wall, eying the square gap. Perhaps it was meant to speak to him? A couple seconds of waiting got rid of that idea.

“Hello? Tea, please?” John asked, leaning back when the machine beeped, producing a cup and spilling some dark liquid into it. Whatever it was, it didn’t smell like tea. And the cup didn’t have a handle.

John picked up the glass, peering over the rim at the liquid inside. It was a brownish colour, which he supposed was about right, but the smell was all wrong. Where John expected to receive images of sitting on the couch with a blanket, watching re-runs of Doctor Who, there was nothing but a strange sensation of disconnect.

John hoped that they simply didn’t like smells in the future. Maybe all food was designed to smell like nothing normal?

Maybe they were really worried about bad breath?

John lifted the cup to his lips, taking a careful sip. It was warm, and not at all the right flavor. The liquid that was not tea went right back into the cup that was not a mug. John sat the glass down on the floor near the hole in the wall. He had no idea where else it should go.

Probably some future trash – collecting robot would come and get it. John watched the cup for a few minutes. Nothing happened.

John hummed. He felt silly watching a cup, waiting for something to take it away. So he stepped toward the machine, requesting a biscuit.

A plate appeared, and a small, chocolate covered biscuit appeared. So far so good. John picked it up. It looked normal enough. One bite was enough to change his mind. The chocolate was sweet enough that John was convinced that he could feel cavities forming as he swallowed the bite that he had taken.

Was there nothing that tasted right?

John was disheartened to discover that food in the future was not what he had been hoping for. A part of him said that it was only logical, and that he couldn’t expect for things to taste the same. Another larger part just wanted a good cup of tea and a few biscuits.

It wasn’t much to ask for, was it?


	38. Shipwide Broadcast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock waits, and he watches, and he wonders where John went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DYED MY HAIR RED HAVE A CHAPTER

Sherlock watched the guards arrayed around him. He knew that he could beat them in a fight.

Even secured, he was sure of it. The metal encasing his wrists would simply become a weapon to bludgeon these ‘Security Officers’ into unconsciousness with.

The problem was what happened after that.

Sherlock had no idea where John had gone, or how he was faring. They were trapped – along with what remained of Sherlock’s crew – in this ship that wouldn’t have a prayer against the Vengeance.

Finding him while evading detection would have been difficult, but perhaps he could have managed it. The addition of Admiral Marcus and the Vengeance made everything uncertain. The Admiral would want to reclaim his weapon – maker, and now that **John** was awake, there were more ways than ever that the man could be used against him.

The obvious solution? Escape.

Since chances were slim that he would be able to find John, and then take them both to a shuttle before Admiral Marcus arrived, or escape once they were in the shuttle – either from Kirk or Marcus - the only thing that he could do was to assist the crew of the Enterprise in whatever manner they needed.

Sherlock was certain that he would end up providing most of the driving force for whatever plan he came up with, so when the broadcast of Admiral Marcus and Captain Kirk speaking began playing on a nearby screen, Sherlock watched closely, paying attention to the cues in body language and tone that would tell him more than words ever could, and hoping that there would be some mention of the location of one John Watson.


	39. Punch It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The man wanted to see resign, a man submitting to authority, and that is what Kirk gave him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what happened, and I have no reason that I haven't updated, but I will posting two - or three - chapters today for you guys.

James Tiberius Kirk was good at lying. It was a skill that he had perfected from the time when he was small, leaving the house to do things that no boy his young had business doing.

He became good at reading people, and tailoring his lies to suit what they wanted to see from him.

So it was with Marcus. The man wanted to see resign, a man submitting to authority, and that is what Kirk gave him.

The moment that the transmission ended, Spock was at his side.

“May I have the details of your plan?” the Vulcan asked.

Kirk grinned. If anyone there would have possessed a photo of Kirk as a child, they would have been shocked at the similarities between the smiles that Kirk wore.

“I said that we would be taking a fugitive back. We are, and his name is Marcus. Set a course for Earth and punch it.” Kirk explained, pointing at Sulu as he ordered the man to get them out of here. 

“Uhura! As soon as we’re in warp, send a message telling them that we were pursued by an unmarked Federation ship.” Kirk ordered, barely noticing the faint dragging feeling that always accompanied the ship moving into warp speed.

They were safe now.

John Watson gasped as the ship moved into warp, completely unaccustomed to the strange feeling that it brought.

A moment later, the doctor was at the window, amazed at the streams of color that seemed to be weaving themselves together just outside the window. 

Down in the Medical Bay, Bones waved a scanner in front of Sherlock’s face, taking readings of his brain activity.

“At least we’re moving.” He muttered to Carroll, pleased with the thought of being back on solid ground soon.

“If you think that you’re safe, you’re wrong.” Sherlock warned, his voice quiet. None of them could be blamed for not knowing the capabilities of the ship that the Admiral had brought, but it still grated against Sherlock’s sensibilities. One should never assume to be safe when faced with an entirely unknown ship.

Sherlock watched as Carroll realized just what was coming after them and dropped her scanner, running from the room.

At least someone was intelligent enough to realize what was happening.


	40. Fitness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carroll hates exercise, but occasionally, it can be useful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im a terrible person. I have no excuse, other than my own failure to make time to sit down and write. This chapter is dedicated to one person in particular who reached out to me on tumblr and reminded me to get writing - you know who you are.

Carroll wasn’t fond of physical exercise. Being a member of Starfleet required a certain amount of exercise though, and Carroll was thankful for it now.

The ship – the project that her father had been working on – nobody would realize that they weren’t safe in warp, because they had always been. Warp was the unassailable position, the last and most secure port in the storm, the surest way to escape any problem.

Or, it had been.

Carroll was gasping as she moved into the elevator, making a vague, upward motion when the elevator chirped, seeking a destination. Carrol straightened up, slowing her breathing.

She believed that putting people into torpedoes was wrong. Her father hadn’t seemed very concerned with it, claiming that Khan had done it. It sounded terribly similar to the child’s excuse that their little sibling had done it. It wasn’t their fault. It had been the other one.

“Permission to enter the bridge.” Carroll called out. She saw several people turn toward her with confused expressions on their faces. Only Captain Kirk mattered. He nodded, and she rushed toward his chair. 

“We aren’t safe.” Carroll blurted. Ten years of engineering education and expierence, and the best she could come up with was _we aren’t safe._ Well done Carroll. Your professors would be proud.

Kirk raised an eyebrow at her.

“We're at warp.” He pointed out, as if it was obvious.

Carroll took a moment to gather her thoughts. This needed to be convincing – and quick.

“That ship is equipped with advanced warp capabilities. It can _catch up._ ” Carroll said, wincing slightly. Not much better, but it seemed to do the trick. Kirk leaned back in his chair, thinking about what this meant.

They weren’t going to make it to Earth.

Captain James T. Kirk didn't know what to do.


	41. The Man With A Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Kirk's job to get them out of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive me.

James Tiberius Kirk was the man with a plan. He was ready to wriggle and worm his way out of any situation, occasionally directly after he had managed to wiggle his way into it.

It probably wasn’t a great system, now that he thought about it.

James didn’t notice Carroll fade toward the back of the bridge, her work complete. She had warned the Captain. Now it was up to him to take action.

Kirk felt that weight settle onto his shoulders with the weight of worlds.

The weight of people.

What was he going to do?????

Kirk couldn’t even begin to imagine how it could be possible. A ship, catching up with another ship at warp speed? It boggled the mind. Kirk shook his head.

It didn’t matter how it worked. It only mattered that it was happening. Science could wait until later.

If they survived this.

Kirk thought back to that ship. It was meant to intimidate, to cow. To threaten, simply with its presence.

Unlike the Enterprise, whose light and graceful lines spoke of knowledge and light, that ship was a dark, hulking mass. It would leave the same, dark gaps in the memories and minds of those whose families and homes that it destroyed.

Okay. There had to be a way. He just needed to think of it. To find the clever little angle that would save his crew, and wrap the Admiral . . Marcus up in a neat little bow for Star Fleet High Command.

Ahead of him, Sulu tensed slightly, staring down at his station. Kirk knew that his time had run out.

“Sir. I’m getting a reading that I don’t understand.” Sulu reported, turning slightly to face Kirk, his eyes wide. Even now, the crew trusted him to find a way out of this.

Kirk did the only thing he could.

“All stations, brace for impact.” Kirk ordered. He saw Sulu’s eyes widen. Spock came close, standing directly behind Kirk, offering support and preparing advice.

Kirk turned to look at the Vulcan.

“There's nothing I can do.” Kirk whispered, his tone low.

Then, all hell broke lose.


	42. Impact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria and Jaran, Sherlock and John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bought a unicycle! and im going to try and make my first recipe using quinoa today!!!

Maria loved her work. The stars had always called to her, ever since she was a small child. She wanted to travel far and wide, and see things that just couldn’t be found on Earth. It took a long time for Maria to settle on the job that would be perfect for her.

A shuttle pilot went everywhere. They got to see everything, from the inside of a Vulcan controlled space station – that had been one strange place – to the surface of a new planet. Maria was proud to say that she was one of the best shuttle pilots within Star Fleet.

She was sitting in the shuttle bay, speaking with one of the mechanics – Jaran – about how the shuttle’s engines translated the blocks of fuel into energy when the order to brace for impact came. Maria moved toward the hallway, along with the others working within the shuttle bay, exchanging complaints and jokes with the ease of long familiarity with the rhythms of life aboard a ship. It was a drill. Nothing moved fast enough to touch them in warp.

Then something odd happened. The entire ship shook, her side torn open by the explosive rounds fired upon her. Maria, Jaran, and sixty three other people were sucked out into space, scattered over dozens of light years.

Jaran was reduced to a red smear along the side of the ship that had fired upon them.

Maria experienced a sensation that nobody has ever survived. Her body heat was vanishing. She held her breath for as long as she could, not even bothering to stop the shuddering that accompanied the exodus of heat from her body.

It was beautiful out here.

The stars and nebula glimmered all around her, spreading light throughout the entire galaxy. There were several planets close by. Maria didn’t know what they were called within the logs and maps of Star Fleet, but she named them all with one word: magnificent.

Maria’s tears formed perfect orbs as she released them, and the air within her lungs. Nobody was coming. Not for her, or any of the others that had been scattered alone the Enterprise’s trail.

At least she got to see something amazing before she died.

~

This was ridiculous. Stupid, pointless, _idiots._

Sherlock hated leaving the options to someone else. It would all be so much easier if they just _let him do what he wanted._

He was going to end up doing it anyway. Idiots.

Sherlock nearly went after Carroll as she ran away. He could explain things so much more efficiently than she could. He had designed that entire damn ship. He knew where every bolt and seam, weakness, and strength was.

But no. He was to stay here, with the pointless security guards, while nobody told him what was happening, or where John was.

The thought of John brought everything into focus.

John wouldn’t know how to handle this.

Sherlock had perfect confidence in the man to handle whatever happened . . . mostly. There was always the possibility that someone else had not allowed John to do what was necessary, and now the man could be trapped somewhere, in need of his help.

Sherlock certainly didn’t trust anyone else to take care of John like it should be done. Like it _needed_ to be done.

John needed tea and jumpers and adrenaline and a mystery to engage his mind, even if it was unbearably slow sometimes. That wasn’t his fault. John was doing the very best that he could, and he managed to offer valuable insights on several areas where Sherlock knew he was very much out of his depth.

John would have _convinced_ these useless security guards to release him by now.

Well, Sherlock had his methods too.

The crew of the medical bay were still clinging to whatever material they thought would hold them steady when Sherlock moved.

Sherlock let himself crash sideways as the Enterprise shuddered, spinning out of warp. It was too easy. The guards were distracted, fishing medical personnel out of whatever corners that they had landed in. The single man they sent to watch over the apparently unconscious prisoner was quickly dispatched with a knock to the temple.

Killing him would have been easier. Buy John wouldn’t approve of that.

Sherlock snorted softly as he slipped out of the med bay.

Idiots.

~

John had given up on food. Nothing tasted right.

Maybe it was him.

John put the thought of never tasting his favorite foods again out of his mind. That was an issue that could be dealt with later.

Much, much later.

For now . . . what was he going to do with Sherlock and this strange . . . time that they had landed in? John shied away from thinking too much about the past. Sherlock would say that he required time to process, and internalize his emotions.

Would he ever be able to go back to Baker Street? Not if this was real.

Mrs. Hudson.

Harry.

Molly.

Greg.

Even bloody Mycroft Holmes.

Abruptly, it was all too much.

John Watson sank into a chair, and cried.

John cried bitter, heart wrenching tears for everything that he had missed. Everything that had been taken away from him without his consent.

Everyone he had known was dead.

Except for Sherlock.

“Sherlock.” John whispered, sitting up and wiping the tears away. Without doubt, his partner had managed to get into some ridiculous situation. He would need someone to watch his back, and keep the more . . . creative ideas at bay.

John had always been that someone.

He needed to get out of this damned _room._

John stood tall – or, as tall as he was able to – and walked purposefully toward the door.

Half way there, the room shuddered around John, sending him lurching sideways.

Was this some absurd security system? No. There was a . . . ripping sound. Explosions.

John dropped to the ground, scrambling for cover. He put his back to the wall, wishing desperately for his gun. A gun. Any gun. A club. A rock. John settled for hiding himself in the darkest corner available, his eyes roaming from his position over to the door, and then over the observation windows as the ship continued to shudder, spinning sideways.

_He needed to find Sherlock._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost posted the wrong version of this chapter, and nothing would have made any sense!! ;D


	43. Overwhelmed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James held on for dear life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday! My internet is fixed! :D

James held on for dear life as the ship spun out of warp. He had failed. Reports were being called from every area of the bridge. Lost crew, structural damage, a report from engineering, distress calls from various sections within the ship itself as crew members who were trapped sought help.

“Dispatch rescue personnel.” Spock ordered smoothly, stepping forward. James seemed . . . stunned. He had never expected this. Not the fact that Marcus’ ship had caught up to them – nobody had expected that. James had never expected to lose a crew member, to feel that he had failed.

He was too used to winning.

“Shields at maximum power. Navigation, where are we?” Spock asked, turning toward the navigation station.

The crew member hauled themselves up into their seat with a wince, checking over the information before turning toward Spock, glancing uncertainty at Captain Kirk.

“We’re just past Mars sir, drifting toward Earth at a rate of 1,164 meters per second. We’ll reach the planet’s atmosphere in 48 minutes.”

Spock nodded, turning toward his captain, filtering out the barrage of reports and information for the moment. They needed someone who wasn’t afraid to break the rules, or try something completely illogical.

They needed Captain Kirk.

Spock could see that the man as thinking only of those that he had lost. Sixty – five crew members. All at once, because of his failure.

James looked up at Spock as the Vulcan stepped close.

“Take command.” James rasped, staring up at his First Officer. Spock raised an eyebrow.

“I believe that we both know I am not what this ship – or this crew – requires right now. Think James. I am not qualified to know which rules to break right now. Focus, and **think**.” Spock said, placing his hands on the armrests and leaning down, to be at the same level as James, tilting his head to the side as a laugh bubbled out of the man.

“You don’t need to be qualified to break rules. You just do it.” James chuckled, shaking his head a little before catching Spock’s eye. 

“Thank you.” Kirk whispered, his expression growing serious. Spock nodded, and stepped aside, reciting a summary of the pertinent information that Kirk may not have heard.

Captain Kirk took control of the bridge, ordering that the Enterprise broadcast on all channels that Marcus had gone rogue, and that the Enterprise was badly damaged. He knew that it probably wouldn’t work. He still intended to try.

The intercom on Kirk’s chair crackled, and he focused on the sound.

“Jim. We lost the bastard.” Bones growled through the speaker. In the background, Kirk could hear the hubbub of the med bar reorganizing itself and preparing to receive the wounded.

“You lost him?? What happened?” Kirk asked, aghast. How could they lose a man that had seven security officers watching his every move and who was unable to use his hands??

Nevermind. Kirk knew where he was going.

“Send the security team to Observation Three. That’s where he’ll be going.” Kirk ordered before he closed down the channel. An internal scan would show Sherlock’s position, and he wouldn’t be able to cause any damage without the authorization codes. Even then, anything really dangerous required two authorized crew. He had bigger problems to deal with right now.

Most notably, Marcus, and that damned black ship.


	44. Trail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is on the trail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a human disaster. Hope finals are going well for you all. GOOD LUCK YOU BRAVE WARRIORS!!! Also, my computer forced me to let it update to windows 10 and I am a freakin DISASTER because I keep hitting the home button and it pulls up that wimpy little start menu baloney and that is not what I was hoping would happen and Cortana refuses to speak to me Im being given the silent treatment by my own non-speaking computer what is the world coming to im sorry this chapter is short :

The ship was in chaos. It was almost too easy for Sherlock to move around. If only he knew where they had taken John.

Sherlock discounted the prison block almost immediately. John was huggable, and the Captain would want to make _friends._ Placing someone in a cell wasn’t the best way to do that, even if John would probably forgive the man for it. So.

Conclusion: John would be placed somewhere away from main areas. Somewhere non – essential, and most likely small, making it easier to secure.

Sherlock slowed down, his eyes narrowing as he thought. By now, even the buffoons he had left behind would have thought to report his escape. The crash meant that Captain Kirk would be busy – at least for a few minutes as he assessed the damage from the crash.

Kirk was emotionally intelligent enough to see that there was a connection between himself and John. Plus, the man had taken John away.

So, search for non-essential areas with mysteriously increased security.

It didn’t take long.

Sherlock nearly laughed as he saw a group of security offers run by, their hands on their sidearms. They had clearly been warned. It wouldn’t be enough.

Sherlock trailed after the group, tracking them by the sounds they – so carelessly – left trailing behind them. The impact of their feet upon the floor, the jibber jabber of their voices as they reported into the bridge, and spoke to each other, even the noise of their breath as Sherlock grew closer.

This would be simple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't except another chapter from me until after finals end in 10 days. Im dying and my brain feels too big for my skull. Also, to the person whom I have been speaking with on Tumblr - im sorry that this is late!!! (im assuming that this is late ;p I haven't been on tumblr because finals and Civil War spoilers and finals and I cant remember when I said I would post another chapter or my own name).
> 
> Ill talk to you all again after finals! :D


	45. I Found You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John share a hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! :D

In the end, it was child’s play.

Sherlock trailed the security team of observation deck three. He watched from an adjacent hallway as they took up posts around the door, facing outward in every direction and placing distance between each other, to prevent any enemy from diving right into the middle of their formation and taking them all apart within a few moments.

They weren’t completely terrible at their jobs. Annoying.

Sherlock could not trust that these men did not have orders to shoot John, were he to show his face. This Captain was . . . human, and thus had seen the truth in his eyes, but humans reacted in odd ways when stressed, and Sherlock expected that Kirk would be highly stressed now, with his ship out of commission and an unknown portion of his crew scattered over light years of space. It wasn’t out of the range of possibility that Captain Kirk would opt to use John to control him, as Marcus had.

So, he would move fast. They wouldn’t have time to react.

Sherlock crouched down, distributing his weight equally between his hands and feet. He took several deep breaths, and _moved._

-

The door wouldn’t open. John had tried speaking to it, walking toward it as if he expected it to open, and – when he lost his temper – throwing a chair and shouting obscenities. It was just like those damned chip and pin machines back home.

Oh, how John had hated trying to use those things, and now doors were just as bad.

John froze as he heard noise outside.

Shouting.

_Fighting._

Great.

John moved toward the door, grabbing a chair along the way and crouching down, pressing himself against the wall next to the door, holding the chair in one hand as he waited. John could hear impacts as bodies hit the floor, and something that sounded . . . strange. Like someone’s idea of what a gun would sound like in three thousand years or so.

Hopefully that was Sherlock on the other side of the door, and he hadn’t been shot. The weapons of this time probably left behind wounds that John wouldn’t know how to treat. Sherlock had better not get _shot_ after all this. He couldn’t handle this alone. Sherlock knew this time, and he was meant to be there, always, with his insane requests and maddening experiments and his little smiles and . . . the fighting had stopped.

John didn’t have any idea how long he waited for the door to open with a neat little swishing noise. The shadow of the man on the other side was as recognizable to John as his face in the mirror in the mornings.

It opened _easily_ for Sherlock. Bastard. For half a moment, John considered throwing the chair on principle before he stepped into the doorframe, letting his eyes roam up and down the body of the man that he loved.

John missed the curls. Sherlock looked too . . . severe without them. He looked thinner too, and stronger somehow, like there was more muscle mass packed into a smaller space.

“No coat?” John asked. He remembered how must Sherlock had adored his coat, lovingly sending it to the dry cleaners whenever it got a stain, and refusing to work until it was back. It had usually been John’s job to pick up the coat, and bring it back to the flat. Sherlock was always waiting, even though he liked to act like he hadn’t even noticed that the coat was gone at all. 

“They didn’t exactly give me the option to stop and find a coat.” Sherlock said with a smile, taking a tony step forward before he stopped himself, staring cautiously at John. He had always been afraid of rejection.

John held his arms open, and Sherlock came to him, tucking that lanky frame neatly into John’s arms, and taking a slow, shuddery breath.

“I found you.” Sherlock whispered, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent that was _John_ as the smaller man wrapped his arms around his idiot detective.

They stood like that for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to rewrite this freaking chapter three times, but I feel quite happy with it now. ^o^ I need to sit down and work out where this story is headed - so hard to believe that there are now 45 chapters and over 30k words . . . . 
> 
> To think that this all started with a small idea that made me smile, and re-watch Star Trek Into Darkness, and then gradually grew into _this._ Thank you for reading, and for dealing with me. I know its not always easy to handle when someone takes a long time to update, and I praise you all for sticking around! :]


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